Winter Passing
by Carysbyrne
Summary: A young noblewoman is heartbroken as she is about to be married off to an evil, conniving lord. However, the wedding doesn't go quite as planned. Warning: contains MAJOR season 2 spoilers.Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood or the principal characters. _

_Please read and review!!! This is my first RH fanfic, so please be nice!_

Robin tried to remember the last time it had snowed in Nottingham. He gazed out over the frozen white blanket, the familiarity of the forest now transformed by the winter. He shivered, the frigid air sending a sharp pain through him. His woolen cloak was now threadbare, and the nights were cold at the camp. Memories of winters at Locksley invaded him, how he and Much would sit by the fire, dreaming of becoming the King's finest warriors one day, he and Marian's first kiss on St. Stephen's festival….

_Marian_.

It had been months now, but the loss of her was fresher than any wound. He thought of how she would have dealt with the hard winter, making sure the villagers had proper blankets, sneaking them food from the castle…

"MASTER!!" Much's piercing yell cut through his reverie. "A LITTER! THERE'S A LITTER COMING THROUGH!!"

Robin gave an exasperated sigh. "Alright, well we don't want them scared off, do we?" He dragged down Much behind the tree as John and Allan made their way to the other side.

Much was right, there was indeed a litter, a very wealthy-looking one at that. At the head of the party, on a white horse, rode a portly, middle-aged man dressed in scarlet velvet. On the litter, a figure completely covered in white fur reclined, while an elderly woman rode at her side. Most unusual however, were the horribly familiar men surrounding them.

"That's the sheriff's guard." Much noted, unnecessarily. "Why is the sheriff's guard with them?"

"Well, we're about to find out, aren't we?" Quick as lightning, he fired an arrow at the leader. As he had planned, it struck the purse at his side, causing a shower of gold to fall out.

At once, the guard drew their bows out and formed a circle around the litter, aiming in every direction possible. The leader, however, simply looked at his ruined purse and rolled his eyes. In a bored drawl, he called out "All right, it's an ambush, let's get it over with, shall we? No need to be coy, I was told to expect this."

On cue, Robin and Much stepped out, bows drawn. "Oh then, my friend, so you're all prepared to feed the poor of Locksley tonight, are you?"

"Indeed not. As you see, my dear friend Vasey has lent me the use of his guards. My nuptials take place this evening at Nottingham Castle, and I would hate for a penny of my dear bride's…" he gestured to the litter, "…dowry to be wasted."

At his words, Robin felt his temper flare. Nuptials? Vasey and Gisbourne could stand to play host to a wedding after they together had destroyed so many lives, his included? Together, they had torn his home, his inheritance, even his marriage to pieces, and they had the gall to…

No. Marian's death was, ultimately, his fault. He should have protected her, no matter how much she argued otherwise. Keeping his temper, and winking at John and Allan across the clearing, he spoke his next words calmly as possible.

"Well then, he should have warned you of something else."

"Ah?"

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony." At once, he, Much, John, and Allan fired arrows into four of the guards. As swords were drawn and the charge began, Robin felt a strange, almost bloodthirsty relief stirring in the pit of his stomach. He needed a good fight. The soldier in him had rested long enough.

Almost blindly, they began slashing and moving in the timeless rhythm of battle. Even the scarlet-clad man joined in the fighting, he moved with surprising agility for someone of his bulk. Guards fell left and right, Robin himself received a bad cut on his arm, but it didn't matter, he welcomed the pain. He rarely felt anything these days, even the sharp sting of a sword was a relief to the perpetual ache in his heart.

"My Lord!" In the midst of the fighting, he heard the old woman cry out. "My, Lord, she's disappeared! I swear, I turned my head for only a moment…"

"Oh for Heaven's sake, not _again_. Guards! Forget the outlaws! Find the girl!" Groaning, the leader jumped back up on his horse. Catching John's eye, Robin gave the signal for retreat.

They finally caught up with her, a blur of white on a grey horse, riding at breakneck speed. Robin took aim, and fired an arrow into the horse's backside, causing it to sink down to its knees. In a panic, the girl whirled around, looking for her captors. The outlaws moved in closer, and Allan approached her.

"Look love, we won't hurt you, just…"

His sentence was cut off by her hands at his collar. Quick as a flash, she whirled him around with his back against a tree, a dagger at his throat. The girl's wide, beautiful grey eyes were inches away from his, her sharp teeth bared in a murderous snarl.

"If you lay one finger on me I shall slit your throat so slowly and painfully you will rue the day you were born."

"Are you practicing for your wedding night there, miss?" Robin, Much and John circled the tree, swords drawn. Removing her gaze from her captive, she sized up each of them in turn. Groaning, she removed her dagger from Allan's throat and began to fumble with her cloak. There were tears in her expensive, ice-blue velvet gown, but she did not seem to have noticed. She tore off a silver chain around her throat, ripped off her pearl earrings, and hastily pulled off her ivory kid gloves. Drawing her knife, she threw them at Robin.

"Here. That's all of value I own. Now take it and leave me be."

"Oh…what about that there?" Robin gestured to a small gold band around her thumb, where the glint of a ruby could clearly be seen.

Worry flitted across her face, but only for a second. "It's old. False. Of no value." She kept her grip firm on the knife, but her hand began to tremble.

"Madam, if you are going to survive on your own in the forest, then you must learn to lie better. Now let me see that ring." He caught her arm and drew her towards him. A sudden jolt of pain flashed across his face, and he doubled over. When he looked up, the girl was running off, but she did not get very far. Stumbling over the hem of her cape, she tripped and fell directly in a snowbank.

"Aaagh!" She sat up, her face brilliant red and dripping wet, snow sprinkling her tousled chestnut hair and expensive gown. Angry as she was, the sight of her was irresistibly comical, and Allan could not resist a spurt of laughter.

"Think it's funny, do you?" she snapped, giving him a glare that could make the mightiest warrior wince. Allan stopped. She turned to Robin, who wore a pleasant smile on his face. "What do you want of me, sir?"

"I want to help you, madam. You see…" He leaned closer, gave her his hand, and whispered the timeless words. "I'm Robin Hood."

His declaration was met with a loud, derisive snort. "And I'm King Richard." Refusing his hand, she hauled herself up, brushing the snow off.

Taken aback, Robin stared. "You don't believe me?"

"Please. You're the third Robin Hood I've encountered on this godforsaken journey. Now, sir, if you have any mercy at all you will leave me be." She turned around. "What have you done to the horse?" She spun around wildly, becoming frantic. Just in time, she saw Much pulling the arrow out of its' flank, giving it a pat on the back, and sending it on its' way. She gave a shriek of outrage: "NO!!! You idiot!! You realize what you've done?? If Sir Hugo or the sheriff's men are able to track the right footprints…"

"Is marriage to Sir Hugo really so terrible, madam?" Robin interrupted. "He has wealth, position, is clearly a great friend of the sheriff and Prince John …"

"He is also a greedy, selfish, despicable oaf who us not worthy to call himself a man. Besides, the only man I have ever loved, ever will love, is dead. I will never betray him, not even while he lies cold and buried." Her words were fierce enough, but the sharp glint of tears pricked her eyes. This new vulnerability awakened pity…something Robin had not felt since Marian's death. Studying her, he saw that in spite of her red nose, scuffed cheeks and bedraggled appearance, she was still a lovely girl, no more than nineteen or twenty.

"What's your name?"

She bit her lip, measuring him up, then taking in every member of the gang, her eyes narrowed. John stepped towards her, and spoke in a gentle, paternal voice.

"Lass, you can trust him. Here." Taking out his tag, he gave it to her to inspect. She took it and turned it over, analyzing the treelike marking, the small thin frame. Keeping a safe distance from the girl and eyeing her with trepidation, Allan spoke up.

"Look, I'm not being funny, but shouldn't we be getting a move on? I mean they'll come looking…"

"There! There she is! The outlaws have got her!" Everyone whirled around as the sound of hoofs pounding came closer, and the black of the sheriff's guard stood out starkly, dark specks against the snow. The girl whipped around and uttered a curse word that Robin had never heard before on a lady's lips. Suddenly inspired, he glanced up at the neighboring tree.

"D'you think you can climb that?" he asked her, gesturing upwards. She nodded, understanding and began to scuffle up it as fast as her garments would allow. She disappeared out of sight just as five guardsmen approached, swords drawn.

"What have you done with my Lady Jeanette?" the leader barked.

"Well we tried to stop her, but…"

"Don't make me laugh, Hood. You couldn't overcome a defenseless girl?"

"Her? Defenseless? Look what she did to me! And him!" Allan gestured towards the cuts on his throat and Robin's face. The guards laughed.

"Oh, the little wildcat has some tricks up her sleeve, I'll give you that. But if she's run off…" with his spear, he lifted a cream-colored glove off the ground, "then what, if I may ask, is this?"

"AAAHHH!!!!" A guard, sitting just under the tree, toppled off his horse, a sharp icicle protruding from his shoulder. Distracted, the guards looked up at the tree. Quick as ever, the gang fired arrows into each of the men's hearts, save for the one on the ground. Grasping him by the throat, Robin pointed his sword at the man's throat. "You shall go back and tell Sir Hugo and the Sherriff that Lady Jeanette is headed towards Knighton on a grey horse. D'you understand? Mutely, the guard nodded, and ran off as soon as Robin released him. As soon as he was out of sight, the girl climbed down from the tree.

"Don't ever call me that. _Ever_."

"My good lady, a simple thank-you would suffice! Do you realize you've just been saved by the greatest man in all of England?" Much yelped, horrified at the girl's apparent lack of hero-worship.

"Leave it, Much," Robin interjected, chuckling. "What shall we call you then?"

"Janet. Just Janet. Not Lady Janet or anything like that."

"Alright, 'Just Janet,' would it be so far beneath you to exchange your wedding garments for something a bit more….suited to these surroundings?" Much, Allan, and John exchanged worried looks, but the girl, for once, had no sarcastic retort or violent response. Her features remained calm, but for the first time, there was a twinkle of humor in her eye. Clearly fighting to keep back a smile, she answered "I shall have to endure it, I suppose."

"Well then, poor Sir Hugo! His marriage bed will be quite cold tonight. Let's away before they come back." Running off, the gang disappeared into the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're mad, you know." The gang were huddled outside the camp, while Janet changed her garments. Much's teeth were chattering as he eyed Robin reproachfully. "We can't just…._keep_ her here." Allan and John nodded their agreement. Robin sighed.

"Look, we're _not_ going to keep her here. Just send her off with some food and money and some clothes, she must have someplace to go."

"I don't." Janet had emerged, clad in a pair of Much's breeches, Allan's shirt, and Robin's old cloak and boots. She had begun to unbraid the silver ribbons elaborately wound in her hair, so the thick brown length tumbled nearly to her waist. Most of her finery had been removed, but the gold ring still remained around her thumb, and the dagger was fastened at the waist.

"You have no friends? No family that can take you in?" John enquired with a raised eyebrow.

She shook her head. "My younger brother's in France, and Sir Hugo's goons have taken over my home. I'll go to Bristol and try to catch a ship to France, I just need a horse. I thank you for your help, and the clothes, but…"

Robin sighed. She was even younger than he had thought. Marian would have thought of something, she would have known what to do with this impetuous creature…but no. He would not think of that. "Be reasonable. If you tried to ride to Bristol, you'd be caught before nightfall…

"I'd cut my hair, pass myself off as a squire, no one would realize who I was."

"…provided you weren't robbed and killed first by some highway robber or another. There's an Abbey at Cercles, one of us would be glad to escort you there…"

A look of sheer disgust passed over her face. "Why? Because I'm a girl? That's all I'm good for? Some convent?"

"They're kind people, they would protect…"

"I don't need protection. Not from you, or from anyone. Besides, I _hate_ nuns." She tugged furtively on a knot in one of her ribbons. "I can surivive on my own perfectly well…"

Allan snorted. "Oh come on, what are you, seventeen?" He narrowed his eyes. "And that's my best shirt you're wearing!"

She gave the shirt a disparaging look. "I might have known. And I'm nearly twenty, for your information." She turned back to Robin, her eyes suddenly pleading. "Look, I know you mean well, and I'm grateful for your help. Truly I am. But I would prefer to make my own way. I can take care of myself."

Robin sighed. There was no use arguing with her. "Very well. You can find a horse in Locksley. We'll see you off, and one of us will take you to Bristol."

A puff of relief escaped from her lips. "Thank you." For the first time, a wide, true smile spread over her face. "You know, I'm beginning to believe you really _are _Robin Hood."

"Yes, about that. Are there _really_ others out there?"

"Oh yes. Like I said, you're the third I've met."

"And what makes you think that I'm the real thing?"

She grinned. "You don't brag about it. You don't realize you're a legend."

***********************************************************

"Hugo, my good man." Vasey extended his arms out towards his friend. "Hood give you any trouble?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I believe he did manage to steal the bride."

"Ah? Well, that's rather inconvenient." The Sherrif leaned forward in a whisper. "Still, might save you the job of killing her, eh?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Hood does not kill, you said so yourself. Besides, I don't need her dead just yet, just until after I get a son. _Then_ we can be rid of the little harpy. But Vasey, remind me of our agreement."

The Sherriff rolled his eyes, exasperated. "We've been over this. You join the cause, have your wedding, have the baby, kill the girl, recruit more nobles for the cause, la di da di da."

"Yes, but I know you, Vasey. What is in this for you?"

Sir Hugo was met with a sneering chuckle. "Why, I am doing this for England and Prince John of course. Now, get going. According to one of my guards, the brat's apparently headed towards Knighton, we should have the wedding by sundown. But tell me…you've made arrangements for the brother?"

"Yes, he's due to return to England in a fortnight. And some _very good_ friends of mine will be there to greet him when he lands." The two shared a conspiratorial laugh, and Sir Hugo went on his way. Vasey sat himself down at his desk and began polishing his knife. In the shadows of the room, there was a slight shuffle. Unruffled, he continued polishing. "You can come out now Gisborne, you've been stinking up the room long enough."

A huge, burly figure emerged from the corner. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and he was in bad need of a shave. His dark leather clothes were unwashed and worn, and he moved rather sluggishly. Ignoring the jibe, he spoke. "With respect my lord, he's right. What do you have to gain from this?"

Still continuing his polishing, the Sherriff rolled his eyes. "Sir Hugo, you see, is a loyal supporter of Prince John. However, he's also a younger son, which basically makes him worthless. He's clever, though. Managed to win this estate, Cardbury, from Sir Stephen Le Say in a gambling match. Cardbury also happens to come with Sir Stephen's daughter Jeanette. The old coot managed to drink himself to death, but he gave his consent to the marriage before he died. Cardbury's of a decent size, but also rather run down, so it's being rebuilt. Which is why I've so kindly agreed to host the wedding for the happy couple. Hugo's elder brother and his son are also coming, but there's a nasty little surprise waiting for them on the road. So, Hugo gets the girl, gets his brother's lands, and once Sir Stephen's son is disposed of, gets his lands too. Happily ever after."

"You haven't answered my question. You're doing all this just to help a friend?"

The Sherrif bared his yellow teeth in a grin. "A clue. No. You see…" he twirled his knife around with his fingers, "the bride and groom haven't received _my_ wedding present. Yet."

Gisborne raised an eyebrow. "You plan to kill them? Why?"

"Oh, a little extra land never hurt anyone, now did it? Now, find the girl, she can't have gone too far." He prepared to leave the room with a dramatic sweep, but paused at the door. "And don't play all high-and-mighty with me, Gisborne. Killing girls should come rather easily to you, I think."

**************************************************************************

"Remind me again, _what_ exactly are we planning to do?"

"I dunno, do I? We just have to get her a horse." Allan gestured at Janet, who was walking a few paces ahead of them. Her hair, now in a long braid down her back, swung as she ran across the snow. She turned back to look at her companions. "I thought outlaws were supposed to be faster," she shouted.

"Well…" Much faltered, trying futiley to keep up with her without slipping, "beg pardon, my lady, but do you have _any _idea how to get a horse?"

"I'll improvise." She ran towards the village clearing up ahead. "So this is Locksley?" Ducking behind a snow-covered fence, she scanned the scene of villagers bundled up against the cold. "Look, he has one." She pointed at a young guard standing in front of a plump brown horse. She moved forward, but Allan caught her arm.

"I'm not being funny, but you're mad," he muttered, shaking his head. "What if he recognizes you?"

"It's all right, I've never seen him before. Besides, the guards are all headed towards Knighton by now, and they only ever saw me in finery. I doubt they'd recognize me like this." Shaking off his arm, she strode boldly towards the guard. Much and Allan exchanged worried glances as she patted the horse between his ears and flashed a smile at the guard.

"Oh he's so pretty! May I take him for a ride, please?" she simpered in a high-pitched, fluttery voice.

The guard fumbled, clearly at a loss for words. "I'm sorry miss, but I really don't think that's a good…"

"Only for a few minutes! I do love to ride, you know! And such a…_fine_ horse it is." She batted her eyes, running them flirtatiously over the guard's body. Blushing, his grip slackened on the rein, but he still kept a hold.

"Miss, look, I…" but his words were silenced when Janet abruptly flung her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Still watching from behind the fence, Much and Allan's mouths fell wide open as she held the guard in a passionate embrace. "I wouldn't have thought of that," Much finally managed to choke out.

Janet suddenly broke away from the kiss with a bright smile on her face. "Oh, thank you sir! I promise I'll only be a few minutes!" Without hesitation, she swung herself up on the horse, gave it a little jab, and galloped off into the snow, leaving the guard red-faced and gaping. Bewildered, Much and Allan spun off and ran after it, struggling to keep its flanks in sight while Janet rode. Finally stopping in a small clearing, Janet turned while the men, panting and slipping in the snow, caught up. She grinned, her eyes shining. "Not bad, eh?"

Allan steadied himself by grasping the nearest tree branch, red-faced and panting. "You _are_ mad. You seriously don't think that…" His words were cut off by the pounding of hooves.

"Oh bloody hell," Janet groaned, the smile wiped off her face. "Come on, let's go!" She urged the horse to move while Allan and Much ran, but it was an old animal, and already exhausted from the gallop. The two just managed to duck behind a snowbank when Gisborne his men galloped up and surrounded Janet.

"Lost on the road to Knighton, my lady?" Gisborne smirked. Moving in towards her, he reached to grasp the reins of her horse. As a response, Janet snarled and spat in his face. His features distorting in rage, Gisborne wiped himself, then reached out and twisted her arm. Her face screwed up in pain, but Janet bit her lip to keep from crying out. Allan made a motion from behind the snowbank, but Much held him back, shaking his head. "There's too many of them."

Gisborne grinned, obviously enjoying Janet's agony. "No more arguments then, my lady?" She was silent, continuing to glare at him. "Well then. Wouldn't want to miss your wedding now would you?" He nodded to a guard, and Janet was quickly swept off her horse and held firmly by the waist. They rode off towards Nottingham, the hooves kicking up a trail of white in their wake.  
Allan and Much looked at each other, unsure of what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to all who read/subscribed/reviewed! Special thanks to poyntersally for helping me out with the first chapter and promising to be there whenever I have writer's block! I'm hoping to have the fourth chapter up by the weekend, so stay tuned!!!_

"We should help her." Much paced around the camp, scuffing the snow with his boot. The gang gazed at the ground. "I mean…we can't just… _leave_ her there!"

"As I recall, you didn't even want her here," John noted quietly.

"Neither did you!" yelped Much defensively. "But…I…well…we… I didn't say we _had_ to help her, I said we _should_…." he continued to stammer, finally turning to Robin.

"Look, I'm thinking on it, alright?" His old self would never have hesitated: yes, they would have helped the girl, whisk her in some grand dramatic fashion right from under the sheriff's nose, and sent her on her way to a new life. But now he found himself thinking...why should he help her? She meant nothing to him, really, and was young and headstrong and would not listen to any sense…she really had gotten herself into this whole mess, when you thought about it…

"AAAAAGGH!!!" A piercing scream sounded out through the woods. Immediately, the gang ran out towards the source of the noise. The screams continued as they dashed out over the snow, finally coming upon two crumpled bodies. One lay completely immobile, while the other struggled out towards it, groaning "my son…my son…"

"Shh, shh." Robin knelt to support the man, who was gasping for breath. His hair was grey, and a carefully trimmed beard shadowed his jaw. A bloody gash cut across his aged, handsome face, and a knife protruded from his stomach. He clearly did not have long to live. "Don't try and speak," Robin said as he gripped the knife, preparing to pull it out, but the man's hand, shaking, reached out to still it.

"P-p-please…my s-son…" Robin shot a swift glance towards John. He was kneeling down beside the younger man's body, whose head stuck out at an awkward angle. His neck had been broken. Meeting his eyes, John shook his head, a grave look on his face. Deciding that this man should not die without any hope, Robin turned back and whispered "It's all right, my men will take care of him, sir, just breathe…"

"My…younger…b-brother... must have …d-d-done this….always w-w-wanted l-lands…w-w-wedding…" With a last gasp, his body grew limp and became heavy. Robin sighed, then closed the man's eyes. "Must have been on their way to the wedding…"

"Hang on." Allan was studying the hoofprints leading back to the castle. "These are the sheriff's guards' horseshoes. They must have killed 'em…I mean, I would know…wouldn't I?" As the gang gazed at him reproachfully, he inwardly cursed himself for bringing up the memory of his betrayal. If he wanted to stay with the gang now, that was the _last_ thing they needed to be reminded of. "What did he say?" he interjected, motioning towards the dead man.

"He said his brother was responsible, then something about a wedding…" Suddenly, understanding dawned in Robin's eyes. "Oh god. Sir Hugo and the sheriff. They must be in league…why else would the wedding be at Nottingham castle? And he said his brother…"

"The sheriff doesn't _have_ a brother."

"I _know_. This must be Sir Hugo's brother and nephew. The sheriff lent his guard, and they killed them so Hugo could get the lands…but that's not like the sheriff, he never does anything except if he gains from it, so…" he was silenced as he realized what was in store for the girl. "Janet. She said she had no friends or family, right?"

"Only a younger brother, who was in France or something…" Allan groaned as he understood. The gang froze, thinking of the fate that awaited the feisty, overly courageous girl with her impending marriage.

"Well." Much nodded. "That's settled." John stood.

"We go to Nottingham. _Now_."

**************************************************************************************************************************************

He was there. He may have been gone, but Janet saw him in her mind's eye. His angel's smile, the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners. The way he threw back his head when he laughed his rich, throaty chuckle. She could still hear his last words to her, had repeated them to herself nearly every day since he had left, and every hour since she had heard of his death. _I love you, my darling. Be brave._ Simple words, yes, but they provided her only warmth in the dank, cold cell. Shivering, she imagined him beside her, as she often did these days.

"_Oh my love,"_ he would have said, laughing ruefully. _"What were you thinking? Trying to ride a horse with snow on the ground? Did you really think you wouldn't be caught?"_

"_I know, I know!!! But I can't marry him, you know that! He's a monster! And I love you! _

The sound of a key turning jolted her to her senses. _"Be brave," _she heard him whisper before she was roughly dragged off. "Come on, pretty," the jailer leered at her. "Time to go meet your bridegroom, eh?"

She was led into a dark, cavernous room. A small, bald, repulsively ugly man sat behind a desk, while Sir Hugo stood at his side. Guards were positioned around the room and at the door. Hugo's swollen face was twisted in fury, but the small man grinned nastily.

"She's not bad looking, Hugo, provided she was better dressed and didn't have that ugly little scowl on. I admire your taste…rather skinny, though." His protruding eyes ran over her frame. She shook with rage, but kept silent. _"Be brave."_ She heard his voice whisper to her. _"Be brave, be brave, be brave…."_

"I'd like you to know, missy, that if it were me you were marrying, I would have strung you up by your ankles and beaten you within an inch of your life by now, for all the nonsense you've caused." The Sheriff paced around her. "But, seeing as I am, fortunately, not marrying you, I'll just do _this_." He whacked her sharply across the face, one of his rings cutting her lip. She doubled over in pain, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying out. "Anyways, send for a priest. We'll have the wedding within the hour. I'll leave _you_ two alone." He lewdly winked at Sir Hugo, and left the room.

Hugo shifted his bulk towards Janet, raising at an eyebrow at her while she crouched and wheezed. Her lip was bleeding heavily, and an enormous purple bruise was forming on her cheek. He smirked, completely nonchalant to her agony. "Bet the prospect of marrying me doesn't seem so terrible now, eh?" He cupped her chin, but with a snarling _"don't…you…touch…me…,"_ she sunk her sharp little teeth into his thumb. Drawing back his hand with a grimace, he noticed the few drops of red she had produced. Losing his temper, he violently struck her across the other cheek, knocking her to the cold stone floor.

"I was going to allow you to wash yourself and change your garments, but you have tried my patience long enough. Give me the keys." The jailer, who had been snickering at Janet's form crumpled on the floor and her barely suppressed cries of pain, did not hear the demand. "THE KEYS!" Hugo bellowed, and the jailer hurriedly handed them over. Leaning over Janet's limp body, he unlocked her handcuffs, and then hooked one to his belt loop. "Because we've all had enough of your little escapades for one day. Besides…Hood isn't here to help you now." As he turned and exited the room, Janet struggled to her feet, determined not to be left dragging behind him. Wiping the blood off her mouth with her free hand, her lips grazed the ruby on her thumb. Pressing her lips against it, she pictured him again. _"I'm coming, sweetheart,"_ she thought, _"I'm coming…"_

_**************************************************************************************************************************************_

The guards shivered as they shifted their positions outside the castle. "Why do they always have to move in _packs_?" Allan muttered as groups of them huddled together for warmth. "I mean, at this rate, we'll never get in, she could be already married by now…"

"Allan." John groaned

"What? I was just saying…"

"_Shut. Up."_

"She's not," Robin noted. "There's the Sheriff, right there." He pointed to the familiar figure, who was conversing with the captain, rubbing his gloved hands together. "He would be present at the ceremony…to perform the deed." Much dutifully nodded his agreement, then his eyes lit up. "Hold on…you know who else needs to be there to perform a wedding? Besides the two witnesses and all?" He gave a nod towards the direction of Locksley church. The gang, suddenly understanding, grinned. Robin laughed out loud, a true and genuine laugh, something non of them had heard since their return for the Holy Land.

"Much, you are a genius. Come on," he beckoned. "It is high time we made good honest Holy men of ourselves."


	4. Chapter 4

The chapel, mercifully, was abandoned. A lone monk stood at the altar, polishing some candlesticks. "Stay back here," Allan whispered. "I've got a plan." He strode fearlessly towards the monk. "Hello there father! Care to hear my confession?" The monk, surprised by the noise, whirled around and dropped his polishing cloth. "My son…there is no need to sh…" His words were cut off when Allan shoved a rag in his face, causing him to collapse on the floor in a dead faint. Pleased with his work, Allan lifted up the body and grinned at the gang. "Some of Djaq's old sleeping draught," he chuckled, waving the cloth around merrily. His chuckle died down as he was met with stony faces. "What? _I_ thought it was a good idea…"

"Well there's no need to sound so pleased with yourself, is there?" Robin groaned, rolling his eyes. The gang ran forward, lifting up the body and stripping off the robe. "Put him in there." Robin gestured towards the confessional, and Allan hurriedly shoved the monk's flaccid form in there while Robin threw the robe over his head.

"Oi there! What do you think you're doing?" A short young monk ambled out from behind the altar. He stumbled a bit, the stink of alcohol clinging to his robes. His eyes suddenly widened at the sight of Robin in monk's robes, and he fell to his knees and grabbed the hem. "Please sir, your Holiness sir, I swear I won't ever drink the communion wine ever again! I'll say a hundred Hail Fathers, I'll clean the chapel privy, I'll…"

_Thump_. The monk's babbling had ceased, thanks to a blow on the head from John's staff. "Nice one, John," Robin nodded, shaking his robes from the monk's grasp. Allan snorted.

"Here Much, he looks to be about your size." Robin tossed Much the robes and shoved his body in the confessional. "We haven't got a lot of time. Much, come with me, and whatever you do, don't look up or raise your voice. In fact, just don't speak at all. You've taken a vow of silence."

"But…"

"No buts. Allan, John, find yourself some guards, _make sure_ you find out where the wedding's taking place. Right, here's the plan…

*****************************************************************************************************

There was no escape. There could be no escape. Janet scuffed her feet as Hugo composed a letter at his desk, determined not to cry. She was certain only of one thing…she would die before that monster who had ruined her life and her family ever laid hands on her. Yes. _Damn you, Freddie_, she thought, _why did you have to France…when I need you here?_

She sighed. It wasn't her brother's fault…he was only fifteen, and in truth, France was the safest place for him, that they had all agreed on. After the death of their father, Sir Hugo had mysteriously announced himself as "trustee" of Marchmain, the grand estate of the Le Says, and Cardbury, the small but profitable one which was to be Janet's dowry. And he was not bluffing: Sir Stephen had indeed composed a will, stating that Hugo, who had only a tenuous family connection to the Le Says (or so he claimed), was to be entrusted with the run of both estates until Alfred Le Say's eighteenth birthday. Brother and sister had both suspected foul play, and it was agreed that Alfred should pay a visit to France, ostensibly to visit some distant relatives of their late mother's, but in truth, to keep him safe from Hugo's scheming. As the heir, he was the family's only hope of securing their home. But no sooner had Alfred left than Sir Hugo had made his move on her. It was what her father would have _wanted_, he had explained, it was for the _best_…and he was not wrong: there was a distinct clause in the will, promising both Janet and Cardbury to Sir Hugo. No matter that Sir Stephen had been so steeped in drink and debt at the end of his life that any decision he had made had been tainted; her fate was sealed. And now, bent over and chained to Sir Hugo's belt, her last hope had vanished. Hood would certainly not come for her: she was neither poor, starving, nor a direct threat to King Richard. She was expendable. Biting her lip, she kept her gaze on the twinkling ruby. _I'll be with you soon, my darling_, she thought, _soon…_

"Sir Hugo?" Her head jolted up at the familiar voice, and she squinted at the guards who had just entered, wincing at the pain caused by the bruises on her cheeks at the movement. The one who had spoken was of middling height, and compactly built, while his companion was of colossal size and bulk. _No, it couldn't be._ Under the helmet of the shorter one, she could she one bright blue eye wink, for the briefest of moments. _Albert? Allan? _She couldn't quite remember the name, only that it was his shirt she was wearing, and had now bloodied…the taller was with Hood too, she couldn't see his face well but his size easily gave him away...he had showed her his tag. So Hood did have something planned for her. _But what? And why?_

No use arguing with it now. Clearly, he wanted to help her, and she would rather be torn apart by outlaws before suffocating in Sir Hugo's clutches. She kept her eyes on the floor, giving no sign of recognition.

"The Sherriff's found a priest. You can have the wedding now."

"Where_ is_ the Sherriff?" Sir Hugo leaned forward, his beady eyes gleaming with suspicion. The movement dragged the chain with him, and Janet struggled to keep her balance as she lurched forward.

"On business. Hood's giving him trouble in the village." Hugo continued to glare, and Janet had to admire the man as he stared back, never flinching. _Allan_, she suddenly recalled. Yes, that was his name. And the big one was John. Finally, Hugo shrugged and rose up.

"Oh well, the sooner we get this damned affair over with, the better. Come then, _my dear_," he snarled at Janet. She met his eyes, stony faced and devoid of emotion. As they ambled out, she made sure to focus on the ground, never once looking at her supposed rescuers.

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She was led to a small chamber, lit by a few candles, with a window looking over the courtyard. The frigid winter air blew in, and Janet shivered. One of her cheeks had begun to swell badly, and it was starting to impair her vision. Still, at the corner of the room she could make out a small table with a green velvet cloth, and two robed men. _Hood and the other one, Much. It must be._ Their faces were almost hidden by low hoods, but she could tell from the taller's authoritative stance, and the shorter one's agitated, jerky movements. But she musn't show any hope…her slightest glance could betray them. And after all, their plan might not work.

"You're the priest?" Hugo raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and this is my companion, Brother Jacques, who _has taken a vow of silence_." The shorter one gave a little puff of breath, as Janet barely concealed her gasp at the sound of Hood's voice. "Shall we proceed with the ceremony, my son? My lord the Sherriff was anxious to have it done soon, so that he may present a…gift to the bride upon his return." Janet's head inadvertently jerked up, but Hugo seemed to understand. "Oh very well then. Let's get this bothersome thing over with." He roughly forced Janet up beside him and dug around in his pocket, eventually producing a fat gold band. "Well then? What are you waiting for?"

"My son, the ring must go on the left hand." Hood nodded towards Janet's left hand, bound up in the chain. Hugo groaned, and took the keys from his belt loop. "Come closer, in case she tries anything _funny_," he barked at Allan and John, who moved up from their positions by the door. "Which, if I might add, she does, then young Sir Alfred will be in for a _very nasty surprise _when he comes back from France." Janet's eyes widened and she trembled. Hugo gave a nasty smirk as he unlocked the handcuff and grabbed her left hand. "Can you just skip to the vows, if you don't mind?"

"Certaintly, except I do have one slight objection." At once, the four drew their swords, Robin and Much whipping off their hoods. Sir Hugo's eyes popped as he sputtered. _"Y-y-y-you!" _Robin winked and grinned.

"Told you it was bad luck to…"

"HOOD!!!!" An all-too-familiar shriek ensued from the doorway. The Sherriff, flanked by a band of guards, stood, his face a shocking crimson, spittle flying from his mouth. The outlaws spun around, John grabbing Sir Hugo pointing the tip of his sword against his neck.

"Your friend, for the girl, Sherriff." Robin drew out a dagger from under his robes. Armed with the two weapons, he stood beside Janet. "Choose! NOW!"

"Vasey…" Hugo stammered, blood leaking from the sword tip as John pressed in. "Vasey…please…" But the Sherriff bared his teeth in a deadly smile.

"Him? Oh yes Hugo, my dearest friend…A clue, _no._ An acquaintance, more like." He glanced at the guards. "WHAT ARE YOU LOLLYING ABOUT FOR,YOU NITWITS?! GET THEM!!!"

The guards charged forward. John let go of Hugo as he warded off an attacker. Janet tried to make a run for it, but she was caught.

"You're not getting away from me now, you little bitch." Hugo's hands moved towards her throat. Janet thought quickly, then smiled broadly.

"A wedding gift for my dear bridegroom," she panted, and then sharply brought her knee up between her captor's legs. Doubling over, Hugo's scarlet bulk landed on the floor with a massive _thud. _She only had a few moments to enjoy her victory though, before she had to duck from the slash of a guard's sword. Cursing, she fumbled for her dagger, and then remembered the guards had taken it when she had been captured.

"Here!" Nearby, Much shoved a fallen guard's sword into her hands, which she almost dropped. It wasn't like her trusty knife at all, it felt rather cumbersome and awkward. Still, there was no time to lose, she swiped at the guards unskillfully, but was able to ward off blows well enough. As one cornered her near the table, she swung it, and with a dramatic sweep, she missed her attacker's throat…but succeeded in severing a lit candle, which fell on the table covering.

The flames began at once, and smoke filled the cold room. Guards and outlaws alike began to cough violently, the fumes edging their way through the battle. The Sheriff himself began to wheeze.

"Water…water, you damned idiots!"

Janet was able to catch Allan's eye through the smoke, and she nodded towards the window. He shook his head, but she ran over and leaned out. There was a large pile of snow at the bottom, perfect for breaking a fall. Without hesitating, she gritted her teeth, hoisted herself up and jumped out, landing right in the center of the snow.

A trail of smoke had begun to sneak out through the window, and soon enough, three other forms leaped out, each landing in the snow. Janet had to roll right onto Much's shivering form to avoid being crushed by John. "Come on," Robin hoisted himself up, dripping wet. "Haven't got time to lose."

"Where's the Sherriff?" A voice sounded not far away. From a distance, they could see Gisborne riding up. A murderous shadow overtook Robin's face, and Janet, noticing it, felt a shudder pass through her. She had never seen such rage in a young man's eyes before; in that moment, Robin became more terrifying than a thousand sheriffs or Sir Hugos. He moved forward, his hand on his sword, but John stilled him.

"Not now. We have to escape while we can. There will be time for that later."

Robin, still breathing heavily, seemed ready to break free. But he suddenly sighed, and his look of fury was replaced by a deep, heartfelt pain. He squeezed his eyes and groaned softly. "Yes. Let's go."

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"What do you mean, _you've lost them?_"

The Sherriff looked ready to rip the flesh off the trembling guard's bones with his bared teeth as he trembled before him. "My lord…there was just….with the fire…"

"La. Di da. Di da. GISBORNE! Take this man away and hang him!!"

"No please, my lord, sir, I beg of you…" the hapless man was led away sputtering for mercy.

Hugo, still coughing, ambled out of the corner. "Well Vasey, what do you propose to…"

_Crunch._ Gasping, Hugo gazed down at the knife protruding from his fat stomach. He looked up, the Sherriff's gave him a murderous smile. "But…I…"

"Thank you for Marchmain and Cardbury, by the way, you've proved most useful, my dear friend," he snickered as Hugo pitched forward.

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The smell of burning hair filled the camp. Janet was hacking off her long dark braid with a knife, and throwing the severed strands onto the fire. The stench grew stronger by the minute, but no one spoke up. Much finally groaned and bit his lip, trying to keep his temper.

"Would you mind not doing that? I'm sorry my lady, but we do not want our dinner tasting like your hair!" Janet grinned, and tied back her ragged hair, which now stopped just below her shoulders, with one of her old silver ribbons.

"I told you, no 'my lady.' And it's alright, I'm finished. Now, just to get to Bristol..."

"You can't go back. Not during this winter, anyway." Robin had not spoken since they got back from Nottingham. He had been gazing into the fire for hours now, that same look of pain still etched upon his face. Janet opened her mouth to argue, but then thought better of it.

"Very well then. What would you have me do?"

"You could stay here." Everyone turned towards Allan, who had given this abrupt statement. Robin's face remained blank, while John and Much raised eyebrows. "I mean I'm not being funny… but we've had women before! And she did save us back there, what with that candle." Janet gave a rueful smile.

"You're forgetting the only weapon I'm any good with is a dagger. I can barely use a sword or a bow…that was pure luck back there. I don't know anything about herbs or living in the forest, and I can't cook. You wouldn't want an outlaw who only knew how to read and embroider and ride a horse, would you?" No one had a response, and she sighed. "I thought not."

_Swish!_ The familiar sound of the trap sounded out, and they ran towards it. In its clutches lay a small, well-dressed man thrashing about. Much caught the reins of his black horse before it sped off into the snow. "Please, I only want to go to Nottingham castle, all I have is a message for the Lady Jeanette!" the man panted.

"Pierre?" Janet edged forward. "Take him down…that's my brother's servingman." The trap was eased down, and the man emerged. His cloak was disheveled, and tufts of snow stuck out from his pale hair. "Mademoiselle Janet?" His pale eyes bulged at the bruised and bedraggled girl. "Oh _mon Dieu_…what have they done to you?"

"It's all right Pierre, Hugo was planning to kill me, so I escaped."

The little man's eyes popped. "_Quel merde! Salaud! Oh, ma pauvre_… if your sainted mother had known this…"

"Enough about my sainted mother. Now Pierre," she leaned in closer "what did Freddie want?"

"He said that he must miss your wedding and venture into the South, because…there is suspicion…we believe Sir Hugo has some plans for him when he returns."

_A nasty little surprise for Sir Alfred._ So that was what Hugo meant. She grabbed Pierre by the shoulders. "Oh god, we have to get to Bristol right away! Where did your horse go?"

"You can't do that, I've said before." Robin growled in exasperation. "You'll be traced on horseback. And if your friend here gets caught, they can trace him to your brother." Pierre sadly nodded. "He is right, Mademoiselle Janet. In this weather it is very easy to be tracked." He gestured towards the prints in the snow. Sighing, Janet sniffed and blinked back tears of frustration.

"I'll make you a deal, Janet." Robin stepped forward. "You fight with my men for the sake of poor of Locksley, and in the name of King Richard, and when the King returns, I will ensure that your lands are restored to your family." Janet eyes flared, and she opened her mouth at the sound of the King's name, but then closed it. She spoke slowly, clearly struggling to choose her words.

"I'll fight for the poor, but not for the King." Robin's mouth twitched. "And why is that?"

"I have my reasons. But…" She paused, thinking. "If you promise to ask him to restore mine and my brother's lands…then… I will not raise an objection against him."

Robin began to retort, but she was resolute. Pierre reached out and patted her arm, but gave him a warning glance, telling him not to pry. "Very well."

Pierre gave him a little bow. "Thank you, my good sir. My family has served her mother's for years, and I trust you to…"

"It's alright sir, I've seen her fight today, and she fought well. I think she can take care of herself." Janet's eyes were still flaming, but she gave a hint of a smile. "You'd better go, Pierre. Before the Sherriff's men catch you."

"_Oui,_ you are right. God bless, Mademoiselle." Pressing a quick kiss on her hand, the little man saddled up and galloped off into the bleak whiteness.

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_Don't go away! There's more to come! I'll be bringing back some old characters...both from the series and canon. And what will happen to this new gang? What will they face? And....*drumroll* ...is there any romance in the air? Stay tuned to find out!!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Please continue to read and review! Comments/Suggestions are always welcome! :-)_

_If you care, there is now a poll on my profile, but if you do take it, make sure to read this chapter first!_

The young man ran through the clearing, making sure not to slip on the melting snow. He spun around wildly, trying to remember his way to the camp. There must have been some sign, some landmark…but no, there were just trees. And _more_ trees. _Ideal for an outlaw camp_, he thought, _plenty of hiding places_. Besides, his own brother had built it, he would have made sure that it was as well-hidden as possible.

He wasn't sure how to present himself either. _Hello, my brother is one of your men, therefore I should be too? _No, that sounded too arrogant. _You saved my life once, I'd like to repay you?_ Blast…he was eighteen now, this shouldn't be so hard!

Most of all he was afraid of his brother, whom he knew still thought of him as a child, despite not having seen him since their father had been killed. The memory of his father's death brought out a new determination…yes, that was it. He was seeking justice. _Or revenge?_ That's what his father would have said, in his righteous way. Brushing off the thought, he kept his pace. _I'm doing this for you, dad_, he thought. If only there was some way he could prove himself, come way of showing that he was just as good and brave and generous a man as his brother…

_That's it!_ An idea, brilliant for its sheer simplicity, popped into his head. _He_, little Lukie, would single-handedly rob some wealthy caravan or another, and scatter the money around Locksley village himself! The gang would be befuddled at first, but then he would present himself. _Oh, it was nothing_, he would say, _just doing my duty for the King! _They would practically _beg_ him to join up after that, his brother most of all! Now all he had to do was find some wealthy rider to steal from.

How did a true outlaw go about this? Did he seek out victims for himself? Or did he lie and wait until they stumbled into his path. _You've got your thinking face on again, Lukie_, he heard his brother laughing.

That did it. Time to become a man of action. He ran off towards the center of the forest. From a distance, he saw a slight young man lying at the base of a tree. Drawing his dagger, he sped off towards his target, practicing his words. _Sir_, no… _my_ good _sir, you will hand over your gold to me or else I shall…_

Coming upon the youth, he heard something which sounded very much like a light, snuffly little snore. _Blast._ He was sleeping! How should he wake him up? Cough, perhaps? Or go for the more dramatic, and wake him up with a knife at his neck? Deciding on the latter, he leaned over the man and prepared to place the tip of his dagger at his throat. His very white, very hairless, very _feminine_ throat.

_Damn!! _Just his luck. His first great act as an outlaw was to rob a _girl_. Drawing back, he studied her. To make his luck even worse, if possible, she was perhaps the loveliest girl he had ever seen in his life. Her long dark lashes swept her pale cheeks, and her pouting crimson lips formed a small pucker as she dozed. A lock of rich brown hair flopped in her eyes, lightly fluttering as she breathed deeply. She wore a shirt and vest, a black wool cloak, breeches, and boots, not of the richest material, but certainly well cut and cared for. A small dagger was fastened to a too-large belt at her hips. _Think,_ he muttered to himself, _what would an outlaw do? _But that was just it. An outlaw wouldn't think, he would _act_. The girl shifted in her sleep, and he noticed a gold band on the thumb of her right hand. The sun picked up a brilliant flash of red, and he grinned. _There! _That little bauble right there must be worth something: the gold could be melted into coins, and the jewel would definitely fetch a pretty penny! Best of all, he could just slide it off her, and be gone before she woke up. He could tell the gang all about he had come upon some nobleman in the forest, and was able to steal his most prized possession! After a long, brave fight, of course. Holding his breath, he gently reached out towards the girl's hand.

************************************************************************

"She did it. _Again._" Much huffed and kicked at some melting snow. "How…_how _many times does she have to be told not to go wandering off on her own?"

"Calm down, she's not going to get caught. The Sherriff's holding a celebration for his birthday, everyone will be at the castle." _He's right though_, thought Robin, as he sharpened his sword. Janet really shouldn't be wandering off on her own. After her escape, the Sherriff had placed a warranty and death sentence on her head, for Sir Hugo's murder, indeed making her an outlaw in her own right.

That had been nearly a month ago. Since then, Janet had proved to be both an asset and a hindrance to the gang. While she was a fearless and fervent warrior, her skills were still lacking. With tutelage, she now could manage a broadsword well enough, but she was absolutely hopeless with a bow and arrow. Whenever one of them had tried to teach her the patience of an archer, any training sessions had ended with her outbursts of temper and frustration. Still, she never complained about her new, rough settings, and was tireless in helping the gang.

"Should we go out and look for her though?" Allan piped up. "I mean…she might have gotten lost."

"She's been here a month now….she's not going to…"

"_AAAAHHH!!!"_ A piercing, female shriek rang out. Immediately, the gang drew their weapons and rushed towards the scream. But as they got closer, another, furious screech followed.

"GIVE THAT BACK, YOU DOMONODDY! IT'S MINE!"

"Miss, this ring can…and will feed the poor of Locksley tonight!" A young man's voice responded, trembling but sure. Janet responded with a yelp of outrage.

"How's a ring going to feed a bunch of people, moron? Now give that back before I cut your worthless body into a thousand pieces, you son of a pig!"

Nearing a hill, the gang came upon a most unexpected sight. Janet was furiously chasing after a youth, her black cloak whipping behind her, her dagger drawn. With a grunt, she tried to stab him, but she was so blinded by anger that she missed. The young man turned, drawing his own knife, and holding out Janet's small golden ring.

"Miss, this can be melted into coins, and the jewel…"

"Well, the man who gave that to me is worth more than all the coins or jewels in the world! And I'll kill you before I let it out of my sight!" Leaping, she pounced on him, and the two went spiraling down the hill like a pair of battling dogs.

"Woah…woah there!" The gang dashed forward as Janet and her captive became a blur, before collapsing at the bottom. Janet straddled her captive, teeth bared, her knife at his throat.

"What's this now?" Robin could not help but chuckle as he surveyed the scene. Then, he saw the youth's white, terrified face. "_Luke?_ Is that you?"

Janet face changed from anger to shock. Her upturned nose wrinkled in a look of pure revulsion. "You mean you _know_ this little scum?"

"Know him? Why he's an old friend! Aw, come 'ere!"

John pulled Janet off and Robin brought Luke to his feet. The gang covered him in hugs while Janet glared at the men's joy, her face set in a suspicious scowl. "He still has my ring," she sulked.

No one seemed to have heard her. Luke drew back, his beam turning into a frown. "Where's Will?" Robin, Much, John and Allan exchanged looks, unable to find the right words. Luke's look turned to utter panic, and he shook Robin by the shoulders. "Please...tell me the truth…where's he gone?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello everyone! _

_Sorry for the delay...was very busy this past week. But anyway, here's chapter 6, and chapter 7 shall be up VERY soon, I promise. As always, reviews/thoughts/comments/suggestions are highly appreciated_

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"You don't have to lie to me." Luke's voice became ragged with desperation. "Just…is he dead? Or alive?"

"Luke…" Robin sighed. Truly, there was no easy way to do this. The lad had grown up the beloved pet of the village, coddled by his family and all who had known them, and had had his entire life torn apart by cruelty and oppression. Now, his last surviving family member had abandoned him. "Will's alive. And safe. And well. That's all that really…"

"Where? Where is he? Did he leave a message for me?"

"He's in the Holy Land!" Much blurted out, earning himself a glare for the men. "He has a right to know! And he's all right, really…he's there with Djaq…"

"Djaq?" Luke racked his brains for the name. A half-remembered form swam before his eyes, that of a dark-skinned, androgynous figure. "He abandoned me…abandoned you…for…for…" From nowhere, he felt tears invading and impairing his vision. Choking on his shock, he forced himself to swallow them.

"It wasn't like that." Robin reached out and put an arm around him. "You have to understand…

"No, no. I'm sorry. I can't understand." Shaking off Robin's arm, he turned on his heel and began to storm away, but suddenly turned back and approached Janet. "Your ring, miss," he muttered, shoving it into her hand before he dashed off into the forest.

"Luke…Luke, _wait_." The men sped off after him, leaving Janet puzzled in their wake as she jammed the ring back onto her thumb.

"Well come on then." Allan turned around. "We can't wait around all day, can we?" Groaning, she drew her dagger and ran to catch up.

"Look I'm not being funny, but is this _always_ how you introduce yourself to blokes? Trying to cut them up?" he asked as she drew closer.

Rolling her eyes, she decided to ignore his question. "So, who is he, anyway?" She gestured up to Luke, who had been caught by Robin on the shoulders and were now conversing in hushed voices, while Much and John looked on. Luke was breathing heavily and shaking his head, Robin looked exasperated.

"His brother used to be one of us. Before he went off to the Holy Land." Allan bit his lip as he thought of his onetime best friend. When they were fighting together, he and Will had become brothers, each having lost their own. He was the only person Allan had known who was incapable of holding a grudge against anyone, even when Allan had confessed his feelings for Djaq. But that was long past now…

"Oof!" Allan's attention was diverted by the sight of Janet falling on her face, her foot caught in what appeared to be a trap. Making sure to hide his mirth, he waited patiently while Janet struggled to get her foot out, grunting and letting out a mix of French and English curses. Finally, she turned to Allan. "Do you mind?"

"Only if you promise not to try and slit my throat," he replied with all seriousness. She opened her mouth to object, but he laughed and made his way over, drawing his knife to cut the trap open.

His grin was wiped from his face when he saw the mangled mess of her foot. It was trapped between two large metal claws, unlike that of any trap he had ever seen during all his time in the forest. It took all his strength to wrest it open, revealing Janet's profusely bleeding ankle. When he looked back up at her, she was breathing heavily, and tears pricked her huge grey eyes. She was clearly trying not to cry with pain.

"You don't have to be so quiet, you know, this looks pretty bad." Allan muttered as he checked her ankle for broken bones, finding one that protruded prominently. Flinching at his touch, she dragged it away. "I've had worse," she muttered, and tried to get up.

"No don't. Look…I'm not being funny, but I'll probably have to carry you back." She shot him a blazing look. "Well, there's no need to look so grateful about it," he remarked at her less-than-pleased expression.

Biting her lip, she groaned. "If you have to." Allan stuck the trap in his bag, and lifted Janet onto his back while she held on around his shoulders. She was surprisingly light, but her every muscle was like whipcord. An odd feeling of protectiveness came over him: no matter how proud she acted, she really was just a girl, and a very young and vulnerable one at that.

"Hurry it up then," she grumbled, giving him a little kick with her good foot. "I don't want to be seen like this, we probably look absolutely ridiculous."

Allan sighed. _Just like a girl_, he thought.

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"Hold _still_." Much grunted as Janet winced. "This bandage is never going to go on properly if you keep kicking about!"

"Well it's difficult not to when you keep rubbing that foul-smelling stuff into it! And begging your pardon, but do you even _know_ how to set a broken bone?"

"Lass, relax. He knows what he's doing." John handed her some water.

"It's all right Janet, he did it for me in the Holy Land." Robin was inspecting the trap. "I've never seen anything like this before, not even in Acre. "Where did you did you say you found this?"

"Under a log or…_aaaahhhhh!!!_" Much had finished the bandage and set her foot down. "Now, you'll just need to rest that for a few days." Janet sighed, and shifted herself before the fire, and almost bumped into Luke. He had been sitting solemnly before the fire since they got back to the camp, not saying anything, and eating only a bit. Janet studied his profile. He was handsome enough, with clear blue eyes, a straight nose, and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. His thick mop of tawny hair, as well as his open and innocent face, reminded her a bit of Freddie. She wanted to tell him that she knew some of what he was feeling, that her brother had left her too, but thought the better of it. There really was no comparison: Freddie had left in order to protect their family, Luke's brother seemed to have up and abandoned him. And after all, she had tried to kill him. Any expression of empathy would look rather odd.

"Look…" she said, deciding not to pat his shoulder. "I'm sorry. About earlier. I didn't know…it's just that…" He cut her off with a shake of his head.

"There's no need, miss. I can see it means a great deal to you. I shouldn't have taken it from you." He turned and met her eyes. "He must have loved you very much. The man who gave that to you, I mean."

"What was his name?" Robin leaned forward, nodding to the ring. "If you don't mind saying so."

She smiled. "His name was Philip. Philip de Courcey. We were childhood sweethearts." Much and Robin exchanged the briefest of looks, but Janet gazed into the fire, her mind clearly on the past.

"He was my father's ward; came to live with us when I was five." Her eyes took on a sudden gleam as she leaned towards Robin. "You were in the Holy Land, you must have known him! He was the best, bravest fighter any of us had ever seen, he could do anything with a sword, lance, bow and arrow…by the time he was fourteen he was a match for my father!"

Much looked at the ground, afraid to meet her eyes, but Robin chose his words carefully. "I knew of him. He was a great warrior, or so I've been told."

Her blissful smile widened. "But he was so gentle too…one time we found a little orphaned fox cub in the woods, and we brought it home, and he bandaged up its leg and we kept it as a pet…" she gave a sad chuckle. "We made each other a pledge to marry when I was ten and he was twelve. Father loved Philip like his own son, we were sure he would consent. Everyone else thought so too. But…" she swallowed, "…when we told him, he flew into a rage. Philip was a good man and a great warrior, but he had no money or lands of his own. He was a …natural son. Father thought he would become a Templar, but Philip refused. We thought to live at Cardbury, which was my dowry. When we told him of this, Father called Philip a bastard seducer, had him whipped, and threw him out of Marchmain, banishing him forever. He was a good man, my father, but after my mother…left…he turned to drink. He was never the same." The flames reflected in her huge eyes, now glazed with a silvery sheen.

"Philip decided to join the King's army and go to the Holy Land. He was sure he would win lands and money for his service, so that he could marry me properly when he came home. I saw him one last time before he left. Gave me this, all that his mother had left him as a child." She rubbed the ruby, lost in the depth of the fiery cherry-red glow.

"How did he die?" Allan blurted out, without thinking. Much, Robin, Luke, and John shot him glares, but Janet continued, not removing her gaze from the ring.

"A friend of his came to Marchmain right before Father engaged me to Sir Hugo…he didn't know about Philip's banishment. Philip and some others were out on an errand for the king in a Saracen village…but they were found out. The Saracens attacked, and they set fire to their camp while they slept…" Her voice was steady, but the tears had begun to drip down her face. "He was burned …. and they took him… and stabbed him….threw his body on a dung heap with the rest of the corpses…that's what his friend said…my poor darling Philip…" she began to tremble, but she bit her lip, forcing herself to remain calm. "They found his cloak and armor…or what was left of them, anyway. But his body was taken by the Saracens." She sniffled, and choked back a sob. "When I found out, I swore never to marry or love another man. No one can ever replace him."

John reached out and patted her back with sympathy, while Allan shuffled his feet nervously. Luke gazed into the fire, lost for words. Much and Robin looked at each other, their eyes aflame with a secret. No one was able to say anything for a long time.

"Well." Robin finally broke the silence. "Janet, you should get some sleep, if you want to get well. And Luke, you've had a long day. We shall find out about these traps in the morning."


	7. Chapter 7

"Here, found another one." Allan, wearing thick leather gloves, dumped a metal trap into Robin's hands. The gang had searched for and discovered many of these booby traps, each hidden in some discreet place and constructed of two metal claws that enclosed a foot, or in many cases, animals, when stepped in. Janet seemed to have been caught by an earlier or crudely constructed version; these newer traps looked like they were fashioned to snap a man's foot clean off, let alone break his ankle.

"Thanks." Robin, also wearing thick gloves, tossed the trap in a sack Much was carrying. The traps must be a new scheme of the Sherriff, designed to catch poachers. Indeed, since the Sherriff's excursion to the Holy Land, the weakened number of guards and decrease in hunting activity lead to a higher number of poaching. But thieves were not the only ones at risk with these traps: any wandering innocent, even _children _could be caught in these.

"What are you thinking of, Much?" The man's brow was furrowed as he tied the sack.

"D'you think we should tell her? The truth?" Much met his eyes. "I mean…she has a right to know."

"Right to know what?" Allan cut in, rather sharply.

"Never you mind. Go find some more traps." Reluctantly, Allan skulked off while Robin turned back to much. "She's young, she'll learn to move on. Besides, Philip De Courcey is dead, you and I saw it ourselves. Let his actions rest with him."

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"You know, you really shouldn't be doing that." Janet pretended not to hear Luke as she dragged herself to across the camp, holding onto a tree branch for support. "I mean it, you're only going to make it worse!"

"I think I can manage without your medical expertise, thank you very much," she grunted, just before she lost her footing. Right before she fell to the ground, Luke rushed out and she tumbled straight into his arms. They locked eyes for a moment, she could see he was blushing deeply. "Sorry, miss," he mumbled, before helping her stand up straight.

"I told you, don't call me that." She slung an arm around his shoulder, and he supported her while they walked to a tree, and he helped her sit.

"All right, whatever you want. But really, you should be resting that." He nodded to her bandaged ankle. It will be fine in a couple of days if you…"

"And it might be fine even sooner if I exercise it, no?" Luke sighed. She was right, he may not be a doctor, but he certainly knew that she should not be up and about with her injury.

"I don't want to have to argue with you, but…"

"Well then don't contradict me!"

"I don't want to, but you give me no choice..."

"If you think I'm going to let myself be lorded over by a _boy_ then… "

"WELL IT'S NOT AS IF I'M ENJOYING IT!" he erupted, losing his temper. Turning his back, he leaned on the trunk, breathing deeply, trying to get a hold on his anger.

"And…and I'm not… a boy," he managed to spit out.

"Oh, excuse me, I meant to say _a lad_."

"I'm eighteen!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Could have fooled me."

"Look," he snapped turning to her and unleashing the full brunt of days, _weeks,_ of pent-up frustration and sorrow on her. "Robin told me to keep a watch on you because in case you haven't noticed, _my lady_, you happen to be injured! And although I don't want to because you're acting like…like…"

"What, lost your nerve?" she taunted, smirking.

"…Like some…. impossible spoiled little child! If you were a man I would blacken your eye right now for the way you're behaving!" Her sneer was wiped right off her face, but he continued. "But I owe Robin my life, and if he needs me to do something, then by God I will! And gladly!"

Janet opened her mouth to retort, but thought the better of it. _"Quel con,"_ she muttered under her breath. Luke heard her, and could deduce her insulting tone, but walked away and slumped at the edge of another tree. He wanted to kick something, to punch. Will would know what to do, how to talk to a girl, how to make her stay put. He looked up at her. He had expected her to try and come flying at him after calling her a spoiled child…oh _blast_, had he really just done that? _Never shout at a lady_, his mother had always said. But no, she just lay slumped at the base of her tree, kicking at a pile of dirt with her good foot. They remained like that for what seemed to be a long time.

"Why?" Janet finally asked. Luke jerked his head up, surprised at the apparent lack of venom in her voice. "Why…why what?" he stuttered.

"Why do you owe Robin your life?" she asked. Luke wondered if she was mocking him, but no, there was no suspicious furrow in her brow or doubt in her voice, she looked and sounded completely sincere.

"My…my brother and I…we were arrested by the Sherriff. For stealing some bread." When she raised an eyebrow, he immediately went on the defense. "We were starving! Our mother had died, and our father had gotten his hand cut off for poaching, and…and…" Janet cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I don't doubt you did it to survive. I've been here a month now, and I've seen and heard worse of Vaysey. Go on."

"Well, we were arrested, and we were going to be hanged…but Robin…he came in and saved us. It was last minute and all, we were on the nooses and everything…but he just cut the ropes loose with his arrows…" his face lit up, remembering the fantastic mixture of terror, relief, and exuberance he had felt at that moment.

"He didn't come and save you until you were _actually being hung?_…" Janet practically shrieked in outrage. Luke began to object, but she shook her head. "Well, it's his style, I suppose," remembering her own rather hastily coordinated rescue.

Deciding there was no use quarreling with her, Luke continued. "Will stayed on with the gang, but father and I went onto Scarborough. We came back to visit Will, to try and get him to come back with us…and…and Dad…dad was…" He felt his breath go hot and wet, and his vision cloud. Determined not to weep like a hurt child, he swallowed his grief. "He was killed by the Sherriff. Will made me go back to Scarborough, but…but I wanted to be like him, like Robin. Will said before that we shouldn't take cruelty lying down, we should fight back and stand up for ourselves. So I want to do that. It sounds silly, I know, but the Sherriff and Prince John have done enough to the people. I've seen it in Scarborough too, people there are starving and dying every day. So I decided…I'm going to fight back. And if it means risking my life, then I don't care." He met Janet's eyes again, half-expecting her to snort or roll her eyes or mock him for his righteousness, but her face was still and sympathetic. She broke the gaze, only to take a drink of water. There was a second long pause, neither of them knowing what to say.

"So…are you a carpenter then? Like your brother?" He blinked at her incredulously, again trying to see if she was mocking him, but there was no pretense or judgement in her voice.

"Well…I used to help my Dad and Will some…but I never really had a knack for it. I'm actually...well, that is, I think I'd be much better with farming, you see. I had a garden back when we were living in Locksley, and I'd plot out different kinds of plants and crops to put in it for the whole year…" he broke off when he saw her laughing. "What?"

"I'm sorry, but… where would you find any land? I mean, all the profitable farmland is owned by nobles and squires and such, how would you ever…"

"Well there's the thing. You see, I would make enough money, through trade or and then, when the king returns and the taxes have stopped, of course, rent out a plot of land, not a big one necessarily, but a good and fertile one. Then, I would find the right crop for it, depending on how warm the place was and what the weather was like and what kind of soil it had, and then sell the crops to the man I bought the land from in exchange for…" He stopped when he saw she was still smiling. "You think I'm a right fool, don't you?"

"No. I was thinking you're like Philip. Not so much your ideas, but the look in your eyes, when he used to talk about living at Cardbury and the changes he would make to it…" she bit her lip and swallowed. Luke sighed and scuffed his boot. He was worried she was going to cry again, he had no idea how to deal with girls crying, but her face was still, and her eyes dry. "So…you have a brother too? Whose in France?"

Janet looked up, surprised. "Yes. Why?"

"Well…do…I mean, can you speak French then?"

She chuckled. "Yes, some. Our mother was French, so she used to speak it to us. Then she left for a convent when I was eight, so then my father forbade it from ever being spoken in the household."

"Oh." He blinked. "Er…sorry."

"It was a long time ago. Why are you asking? Want to learn some?" His head jerked up. "Well don't look so surprised! It's not like we've got anything better to do. And it will keep me from wandering about, if you're so worried about that. Come here." She patted a spot beside her, and tentatively, he wandered over.

"Now." She clapped her hands together, like a storyteller. "The woods," she pointed, _"…le bois_."

"Leh bowah," he tried, stumbling over the strange words.

"No, no you've got purse your lips a bit more, like this. Like you were going to whistle almost. Now again: _Le bois_."

"Le bwa," he tried again. She shrugged.

"Better," she finally conceded. "The leg…_la jambe_."

"Loh jeahm," he repeated, his lips forming an outrageous O. Suddenly, a flicker of amusement crept into her eyes as she noticed something. _"L'araignée est sur la jambe." _She sputtered, clearly trying not to giggle.

"What? What's so funny? Am I saying…" Luke stopped when he felt a tickle on his leg. Looking down, he saw a large, hairy spider slowly creeping up his knee and onto his thigh.

"AAAH!!!" He yelped, jumping up and shaking his leg furiously while Janet furtively muted her guffaws.

"That was_ not_ funny," he said, trying to assume an air of dignity, which only made her laugh harder.

"I'm sorry…just…you should have seen it! The expression on your face!"

"Oh, what's so funny then?" The mirth was cut short by the gang's abrupt entry.

"N…nothing. Did you find out? About the traps?"

"Yes. Some new scheme of the Sherriff's, and we have to put a stop to it."


	8. Chapter 8

_It's here! Finally! Been a rather bust past couple of weeks, sorry for the delay! Anyways, hoping to have some new chapters up soon, so enjoy!_

Vaysey turned a trap over in his hand and grinned. These were working very well so far, already there had been three hangings just this morning. It was easy, easy enough for the fools who called themselves guards…just pick out the men with all the broken ankles, and you would soon find your poachers. But all that was just an overture…yes there were a few good hangings to be had, but of course, Hood, in his pathetic little way, would try and stop it. He grinned as a new delightful thought entered his head…perhaps he had fallen victim himself! His bow wouldn't be much use to him if he couldn't move…couldn't run! His men were useless without him, they had proven that much, and it would be all too easy to catch them. And then…he leaned over and inspected his masterpiece. A gaping pit in the forest revealed two enormous iron jaws, waiting for whatever prey fell in. Any man would be lucky to survive with two broken legs, if his body didn't break in half. A shudder of pleasure passed through him at the image of Hood, his lackeys, and the new little shrew…whatever her name was…each of their bodies snapped in two, the blood seeping into the metal…

"My lord?" A guard stepped forward, interrupting his reverie. "We've got another." Vaysey nodded, and continued to inspect the man trap, while the guard waited.

"Well what d'you expect, a knighthood? GET HIM HANGED!" The spitting bark sent the guard on his heels, and the Sherriff retuned to contemplating his creation. _Soon_, he thought…_soon_…

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"I've been asking around…turns out there were already three hangings this morning. We've got to put a stop to it."

"I'm not being funny, but it sounds like a trap…I mean the Sherriff knows we're going to try and stop it, so…"

"Oh, what would you have us do, let all the people of Locksley starve and die?"

"ENOUGH!" Luke's voice, with an authority he had never had before, suddenly cut in. The gang turned to him with raised eyebrows, looks of deep skepticism written across Allan and Much's faces, while Robin's, Janet's, and John's were merely quizzical. "It's simple! All we have to do is tell the people of Locksley to stop poaching!"

"Right, and what will they do when the Sherriff keeps making the traps as they starve to death? Got this whole outlaw business figured out, you 'ave." Allan's sneer dripped with sarcasm. Luke opened his mouth in outrage, but Janet cut in.

"Luke's right, we have to do something. And if it's a trap and we risk getting caught, it's better than sitting around here arguing about it." She winced as she shifted herself on her broken ankle. "If only _he_ were here, _he_ would know what to do…"

Robin and Much's eyes met again, but Janet caught it. "What?" her eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip. "You can tell me."

"Tell…tell what?" Much piped up, just a shade too quickly. Robin tried to look away, but there was no stopping her.

"You can tell me. About Philip." Her voice was calm, but there was still underlying traces of anger and suspicion.

"There's nothing to tell." Robin tried to walk away, but her voice grew louder still.

"I'm not a fool, Robin!" Janet was panting, daring him to tell her otherwise. "You knew Philip. In the Holy Land. You and Much both. I could tell from last night"

Robin puffed a breath through his lips. Much was right. She had to know the truth.

"Yes. Philip de Courcey was a soldier in my regiment. One of the bravest fighters I've ever met… and one of the noblest. Never once hesitated in battle, or to defend another man. And he loved you. He used to boast about his beautiful cousin Jenny whom we would never get to meet because we weren't good enough for her."

Janet's eyes filled with tears as a sad smile passed over her face. "That was his name for me…he had a lisp when he was younger, so he couldn't say my real name…"

"That was why I didn't recognize you at first…he never said your full name or mentioned Marchmain or Carbury...."

"He didn't like to talk about his past, actually," Much noted offhandedly. "I suppose because your father…you know." Janet bit her lip and nodded at Robin to continue.

"One day, we were in battle…and Philip got a bad blow on the head from a Saracen sword. He…he was never the same after that."

Janet's brow furrowed. "I don't understand...he...he changed?"

"You've never been in battle. Sometimes…a very violent hit from a sword or a lance can alter the mind beyond repair. And men always change during war. Killing becomes the only purpose in their life, it becomes all they know."

Insistently, she shook her head. "Not my Philip. Never Philip."

"Please, you have to understand…He got a letter one day, while he was healing…from a friend of your father's. He…he found out you were betrothed, and he flew into a rage. He cursed the king, and the war, and the Saracens. We tried to control him, but he wouldn't listen. That night, he rode out with a torch…and set fire to a Saracen village. Men, women, and children alike…they were all burned. Some thought they could stop him, but they were burned too. "

A deadly silence filled to camp. No one seemed able to breathe, or move. All eyes turned to Janet; her pale face was as still and as blank as marble. Only her eyes seemed to be alive, widened with horror.

"You're…you're lying." A thin little echo of her voice finally escaped.

"We went out to try and find them, but by the time we got there it was too late…the village, and all those in it, had burned to the ground. There was no way out."

"Much?" Janet turned to him. "Please…tell me it's not true…it's all a lie…" Much opened his mouth, but only a few stammers came out. He could not meet her eyes, and she groaned.

"No…no…I can't believe it…I WON'T believe it!!" Her wild wail sounded throughout the forest like that of a dying animal. "You LIAR! Philip was the best, most good-hearted man that ever lived…he died a hero! He would never…_never_…" Her sentence was overtaken by howling, heartbroken sobs. Robin attempted to reach out to her, but she defiantly pushed him away, trying to run off before remembering her ankle. Tears of frustration and grief poured down her face as she collapsed against the tree. Luke and Allan made motions towards her, but looks from the rest of the men made them stop. Janet eventually regained control of herself, her cries muting to soft gasps.

"But…but…his armor…his shield…"

"We found the remains the next morning. Some of the men took home the dead men's possessions, for their families. Most of us didn't know where Philip came from, only a few did, but…"

"And…he…he was…."

Robin groaned. He had hoped to avoid this part, but there was no way around it no. "Janet…he was dead, smothered by flames. The smoke must have suffocated him, and half his face had been burnt off…we only recognized him from his armor and the locket around his neck."

A low howl of pain escaped from her lips. "That…was mine…my mother's…I gave it…to…him…"

"We left it with him because he never would be parted from it in life. But Janet, you have to understand...you loved a different man than the one we found dead and burned. He was once a good, generous, courageous man, but in the end, he died a murderer. He was not in his right mind, but it's the truth."

Janet's face was a crumpled mask of grief, her eyes blank and unseeing. She furiously twisted the ring around her thumb, as if it was the only way to give her answers. Tears continued to flow in rivulets down her face. Robin felt a new stirring of pity arise, and sat down beside her. "Janet?" he inquired gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Please, try…"

"Just go away. Leave me alone."

"Janet…"

"GO AWAY!" A fresh wave of tears surfaced, as the men moved away, leaving her to her grief. They convened at the opposite end of the camp, keeping her within eyesight, but out of earshot.

"I'm not being funny, but that was…a bit harsh." Allan's words were innocent enough, but there was still a fierce glare in his eyes."

"I'll go and talk to her." Luke made a motion, but John put out an arm to stop him.

"Leave it." Robin scuffed at some dirt with his foot. "She'll learn…she's not the only one who's ever lost a love."

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_Please review! Or you'll make Luke cry...kidding. :-) But seriously. _


	9. Chapter 9

_As always, thank you so much for the reviews!! They make my day. Chapter 10 is coming soon...hopefully!_

His sack was growing heavier by the minute, but Robin persisted, continuing to scour the forest for the traps. The gang had warned the people to stop poaching, but the Sherriff was clever. Guards had begun to install traps in the village, hidden under doorsteps or fences. No one was safe, and despite every precaution taken, the injuries and hangings still continued. There was only one thing left to do: track down whoever was making these traps for the Sherriff, or where they were stored, and find a way to get rid of them.

"Ugh, master, I'm… sorry, but I don't…. think… I can carry…" Much stumbled up, panting, about to collapse under the weight of his sack. Just before he dropped it, John, already carrying one, scooped it up easily as Much fell in a heap at Robin's feet.

"Come on, get up, you can still help look. Everyone else alright? Allan? Luke? Janet?" Allan and Luke, each slinging a sack over their shoulders, murmured assents, but Janet, bringing up the rear, merely nodded while staring at the ground, not looking up."Very well then. Let's move on." Robin picked up the pace. Janet's ankle had been healing speedily over the past few weeks; she could walk well enough now, though it was difficult for her to run or climb. Still, since he had told her the truth about Philip, she had plunged into a black mood. She ate little, and spoke less, staring into space and moving about like a stiff little doll. Luke, Allan, and John she remained comfortable around, but she rarely met Much's eyes, and had ceased to communicate with Robin all together. Robin suspected that had it not been for her injury, she would have run away by now. Or done something equally foolish.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sight of a gigantic pit. Beckoning the gang forward, he approached it to inspect what lurked at the bottom. The sight he found froze his blood cold.

The gang stared down at the evil-looking, monstrous contraption. Its iron claws gaped hungrily, as if waiting for them to topple into its deadly clutches.

"Wh…what…is…._that_?" Luke's rasped out in a choked whisper.

"It's your fate, that's what it is." A familiar growl of a voice suddenly sounded. The gang whipped around to face the lurking, ominous figure of Gisborne and his posse of guards. Dropping the sacks and drawing their swords, Much, Allan, and John instinctively surrounded Robin, who was rooted to the stop, his teeth slowly baring in a murderous snarl.

Dismountig from his horse, Gisborne surveyed the band, smirking. "Well Locksley," he sneered, nodding in Janet's direction. "Found yourself a new whore, I see."

At his words, she turned scarlet, her mouth twisting in anger. Robin and Allan both lunged, but Luke sprang out and beat them both. Quick as lightning, before the gang or the guards could stop him, he had knocked Gisborne to the ground and was straddling him, the tip of his sword against his throat. "You apologize!" he shouted, his face a mask of rage.

"Luke, _get back_, I'll deal with him," Robin whispered furtively, but he paid no attention, remaining fixated on his target.

The guards moved forward, but Gisborne, clearly taken aback by the youth's courage, waved out a hand to stop them. "For…_what_?" his smirk returned.

"Apologize to the lady. Right. _Now_." Luke jabbed the tip of his sword further into Gisborne's throat, drawing a drop of blood.

"Luke, _stop_." Janet called out. "He'll…"

Her words were cut off when Gisborne whacked Luke across the face, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Hoisting himself to his feet and drawing his sword, he prepared to stab Luke, when his blade was stopped by Robin's. Turning to his adversary, he made a swipe but missed. Robin, the thrill of finally conquering his enemy written in his face, gave a ferocious, triumphant grin. "_This_," he snarled, "is for Marian."

All hell broke loose. Blades flew left and right, war cries filled the air. In the midst of the fight, Robin and Gisborne dueled relentlessly, each going for the kill. Knocking his current opponent to the ground, Luke looked up to the sight of Janet, backed up against a tree while trying to defend herself from a guard. Her blows were skilled, but her still-healing ankle was obviously impeding her from fully being able to protect herself. Hurrying over, he gave her attacker a blow on the head, and before she could object, he clapped a hand over her mouth and whisked her off through the trees to behind a large bush, trying to ignore her furious thrashing.

"_What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing_?!" She snapped furiously as he threw her down. "You think I can't fight because I'm a girl?"

"No, I _know_ you can't fight because you're injured, you fool! Now…" he stopped when he turned back to face the battle. Before him, he could see Robin, Much, Allan, and John surrounded by a thick posse of guards, bleeding and exhausted. Gisborne was perched atop his horse once again, his yellow teeth set in a victorious grin.

"Oh no." Luke murmured, paralyzed with shock as the men were chained up and dragged away. "Oh _no_." Gisborne gave some indistinct orders to a couple of guards, who turned back and began galloping towards them.

"Quick, get down!" Janet, watching the scene from behind the bush, tugged on his cloak until he collapsed down beside her. Both of them stayed completely still, until the pounding of hooves faded into the distance.

"That…" groaned Janet, when all was still again, "was the most utterly…stupid…thing I've ever seen! What the hell were you thinking? You nearly got us all killed!" She gave him a furious smack on the arm, her eyes blazing.

"Well there's no need to thank me! Excuse me, _my lady_, for merely trying to defend you!" he met her cold grey eyes, trying to find the right words. "He called you a whore! And the men, they, well you know, could have…"

She let out a sarcastic snort. "Oh you needn't have worried. I would have never let them take your virtue."

"I was just trying to help, alright? Now…how can we get Robin and the others?"

"You're the expert at battle, apparently. You figure it out."

"Look, Janet, I know you're not happy with Robin, but he doesn't deserve to die!"

She sighed. "It's not that. It's just…well do _you _have any idea what to do? How to get into the castle? How to break into the dungeons?"

Luke opened his mouth, but no words came out. Janet nodded grudgingly. "Exactly. There's no chance."

"We can't be like that!" his voice was becoming desperate. "We can think of something! It's like my dad always said, try to remember, things can't possibly get any…"

His sentence was interrupted by a figure leaping out and toppling him to the ground. Two dark, swarthy men had pounced on him and Janet, and held them captive, knives at their throats. He barely was able to choke out his last word: "…worse."

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_As always reviews/comments/thoughts/suggestions/whatever are appreciated!_


	10. Chapter 10

_THANK YOU for all the wonderful reviews! You all win at life. :-)_

"Well, they haven't gagged us." Luke squirmed against the ropes that bound his body and ankles to the trunk of a large tree. His hand found Janet's, who was tied up in the same manner on the other side. Her touch felt like ice.

"Oh well _that's_ very comforting." She was futilely attempting to thrash about and free herself, but the ropes were too strong and tight. She drew an exhausted breath. "Perhaps that's because they intend to cut our tongues out."

"What makes you think that?" Luke tried to sound brave, but he could not disguise the tremor of fear that crept into his voice.

"They're Rom, of course they're going to." She jerked her head towards the grand caravan that stood some feet away, draped in cloths of dusky red and purple, where their captors crouched before a fire. "You haven't heard the stories? Your mother never told you not to go wandering about in the woods late at night or the Gypsies will steal you away and cut your tongues out and sell you into slavery?"

"That's bloody ridiculous! I've seen Gypsies in Scarborough, they're harmless! All they did was…"

"Be quiet, they're coming over." Janet hissed through gritted teeth. "Now don't talk."

"But what if they can help us? In rescuing the gang?"

"After they kill us? Just trust me. _Don't talk_."

The shorter and elder of the two men had neared the tree. He had thick, curly raven hair tied back at the nape of his neck, a proud nose and jaw shadowed by a beard, and beautiful, liquid dark eyes. The younger, presumably his brother, had the same sculpted face, bright eyes, and rich cinnamon complexion, only his hair was straighter and bit shorter, and he was beardless. He gave a brilliant, sardonically friendly smile at Janet's frown, showing impossibly white teeth. Both were wearing white linen shirts, richly colored vests, breeches, and knee high boots. The elder had a scarf tied around his head and carried a sack, while the younger had a golden hoop in his ear. Each drawing their knives, they moved in towards the tree, the younger approaching Janet, the elder Luke. With one hand pointing his knife to Luke's throat, the elder reached into his sack and pulled out a very familiar-looking contraption. Luke's eyes bulged at the sight of the trap, but he kept his mouth shut out of fear.

"Boy." The Gypsy's rich, deep voice sent chills running throughout his body. "You shall explain to me what this is, or you and your pretty friend here shall suffer." Grinning broadly, the younger pushed his knife a bit further into Janet's jawline, making her swallow her fear. She gave Luke a tiny pinch on the hand, but he opened his mouth without thinking.

"It's a plot of the Sherriff…to stop poachers…"

"Oh?" The Gypsy gave a sardonic smile. "And you are friends of this Sherriff, no?"

"NO! Absolutely NOT!" Luke's voice brimmed with outrage. "Look, we're trying to put a stop to him…perhaps you can help us!"

"Us…help you?" The man let out a terrible, sarcastic laugh. "You expect us to help the English…the English who curse the Rom and would gladly see any of them die? My wife, she was right, she said this place smelt of death. But that what before your cursed countrymen took her and burned her for a witch."

Luke was silenced with shock for a moment, and Janet's eyes widened. Summoning all the bravery in him, Luke spoke again. "Sir, we're sorry about your wife. We truly are. But not all of us are like that! A lot of us are suffering to, every day there are…"

"Luke." Janet whispered through gritted teeth. "Don't make it…"

A tiny cough coming from the caravan silenced the group as they turned towards the source of the noise. From the doorway emerged a mop of shining dark curls, under which peeked two huge dark eyes. _"Tati?"_ a little thread of a voice whispered out as the face of a boy peered out, his eyes widening at the sigh of Janet and Luke. A small hand reached out, supporting himself as he tried to hop out.

"Nicu, _încetează_!" Removing his knife from his captive's throat, the elder moved towards the caravan, but not before the boy had emerged in full. He was tiny, no more than four years old, clad in a oversized shirt and trousers. He struggled to move, for one of his feet was covered in makeshift bandages stained with dried blood. He whimpered in pain as he toppled over, before the elder raced over and caught him in his arms. The younger man kept closer to the tree, but he leaned forward, clearly concerned for the child. Studying the injured boy, Luke and Janet let out simultaneous gasps of comprehension.

"He got caught in that, didn't he!" Luke's fear became mixed with triumph. Both of the men turned to him with fierce glares. "The same thing happened to her, you can see for yourself!" Luke jerked his head at Janet's foot. "We're on your side…we can help! She's nearly healed now, and we know someone who can fix the boy up!"

The gypsies' eyes met, narrowed with suspicion. The elder whispered to the younger, who strode over and yanked off Janet's boots, exposing her bandaged ankle. Her mouth was clamped tightly shut, but her face turned bright red as the men scrutinized the bandaging. The elder, carrying the boy in his arms, approached Luke, suspicion still etched in his eyes.

"This friend of yours, my brother will go with you and you will bring him to us. The girl shall stay until you return."

"Well…" Luke faltered for a moment, but then he thought of his brother, and of Robin and the gang. Their courage would have never wavered, not for an instant. "That's rather difficult, you see. The man who can heal him, and our friends…well you see, they're in prison. By order of the Sherriff. But if you help us get them out, then I can promise you on my word of honor, your son's foot will be healed."

Janet let out an exasperated groan, but she was interrupted by the emergence of yet another figure from the caravan. An imposing woman, draped magnificently in rich, deep violet muslin swept down on the scene. Her swarthy, deeply wrinkled face was serene, but she still had a glimmer of humor and sweetness in her eyes. They seemed to bore into Janet and Luke as she surveyed them, before turning to the elder man, whispering as he raised an eyebrow. "Very well." He sighed. "But if you fail or betray us, then the price shall be your lives."

The captives exchanged the briefest of looks. "I _told_ you they were going to kill us." Janet whispered, looking ready to murder him herself.

"Well what choice do we have?" Luke snapped back, causing her to snap her mouth shut like a fish. Putting on what was his idea of a brave smile, he faced the gypsies. "A bargain, then. I'm Luke Scarlett, by the way, and this is Janet Le Say. We'd shake your hands, but that's rather difficult at the moment." He met the leader's eyes, challenging him.

Janet shot him a look that said _now you've done it_, but the two men and the woman burst into laughter. The elder nodded at the younger to untie the ropes, and he handed the boy over to the woman. "You are either very brave, or very foolish, Luke Scarlett," he chuckled as he extended his hand. "I am Shandor, and this is my brother Djordji. My son Nicu, and this is Tsura, the mother of my wife." Luke grinned as Shandor shook his hand, but Janet lingered towards the tree, barely disguising her trembling as Djordji, a glint of laughter in his eye, extended a hand towards her. "My brother does not bite, you know," Shandor said, his sparkling baritone infused with amusement. "Unless provoked." The gypsies laughed once again, and Luke could not help but grin, winning himself a glare from her. He knew that if there was one thing Janet couldn't stand, other than being protected, it was being mocked. Swallowing her fear and giving a little _hmmph_, she firmly reached out and shook Djordji's hand.

"Now then, we must all come inside, and discuss how to defeat this Sherriff of yours." Gesturing towards the caravan, Shandor led the way. Janet hung back a bit, drawing on her boots, and then hobbling on her ankle. Djordji chivalrously offered her his arm, but she declined with a shake of her head. Luke though, was sure he saw the tiniest of grins flash over her face.

"Still worried about losing your tongue?" He couldn't help gloating a bit, after the successful negotiation.

Her smile gone, Janet rolled her eyes and shot him a grimace. "Trust me, Luke Scarlett, if this goes wrong, I am _never forgiving you_."

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_Disclaimer: There is a bit of historical inaccuracy in this chapter, as Gypsies were not supposed to have appeared in England until after the 12th century. But, it's fiction, and it's not like RH itself is the most historically accurate show anyways. So bear with me! Oh yah, and reviewsplz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
_


	11. Chapter 11

Janet inhaled the rich, sweet-smelling air of the caravan, surveying the many mysterious objects that filled the space. Bottles of colored glass lined the walls, and what looked to be musical instruments were scattered about. Saffron-colored silk, lined with spangles, draped a small, round table. She shifted awkwardly on one of the small, poufy cushions that lined the floor, dragging her bad ankle, and sniffed at the posset Tsura had given her before she went outside to serve the men, who had decided to go out and feed their ponies. Despite her protestations, everyone had insisted she rest her ankle, and she was forced to sit inside with the little boy, who sat playing with a little red ball a few feet away from her. _Men_, she thought disgruntedly, as she heard a guffaw of laughter outside. Shaking her head, she sipped the posset. It tasted wonderful, filling her with a deep warmth, reaching all the way to her sore foot. A slight bump against her good foot snapped her out of her reverie: Nicu's ball had slipped out of his hands, and had rolled up against her. Keeping fixed to the spot, his enormous eyes were filled with fear as he focused on her face. Tentatively, she leaned forward and picked it up, offering it to him, but he remained frozen. "It's all right," she said gently, gesturing a bit. "I won't hurt you." To her surprise, the boy dragged himself right next to her, extending his tiny hand towards her, taking the ball. He leaned in close, like a lost puppy, and she found herself putting an arm around him, stroking his soft black curls. He must have been through a terrible amount of trouble this year for one so young, his mother had been taken away from him in the worst possible way, and he had nearly lost a foot. No wonder he looked so frightened all the time. Giving a little contented sigh, he nestled into her, letting her breathe in his scent, lavender soap mixed with some kind of spice she couldn't name.

She thought that the boy had fallen asleep for a moment, but when she looked down, she found him gazing expectantly up at her. Smiling to herself, she gave him and encouraging little pat on the arm. Janet had never been a girl for dolls, or thought of herself as the maternal type, but she couldn't help feeling affectionate towards this little scrap. In truth, although she certainly hadn't been a docile, obedient child, it hadn't stopped her from dreaming about the children she and Philip might have one day. And this little boy, with his velvety golden skin and sweet smile, reminded her of a young Philip. Perhaps she should tell him a story, she thought, to break the silence. When she and Philip were children, their favorite tales were those of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. In all their games and excursions, Philip was always Sir Lancelot, she was Sir Yvain, and Alfred, when he was old enough to join them, was Sir Percival. She settled on one of her favorite stories, the tale of Sir Gareth, the kitchen boy who became a knight.

"Once, a long time ago, at the Feast of Pentecost, King Arthur and all his knights were having a grand festival. At the stroke of midnight, the herald announced a young man who wished to make a request. The man approached, poorly dressed and all dirty and bedraggled, with a great beard and stinking up the hall. The only thing clean about his person was his large, beautiful white hands....why," she chuckled, as the little boy continued to stare up at her without any sign of comprehension, "you don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"

"He understands from your voice," Janet was filled with shivers as she heard Tsura's deep, dulcet tones, not having noticed her come in. "He knows you wish to share a story with him, and that you wish to make him smile. See?" For the first time, Janet saw Nicu's little face curling up in a cherubic little grin, his two front teeth poking out endearingly. Her heart, which had felt dead for so many days, began to warm over, and she couldn't resist giving him a little kiss on the top of his head. "We'll get you well soon, _petit_. I promise."

"You see someone you know in him." Janet jerked her head up at Tsura's statement. The older woman's aged, still-beautiful face had a shrewd look, although the tone of her voice was still gentle and soothing as ever. "Someone you lost."

"How…how d'you know?"

She laughed, a rich, throaty chuckle. "We are the Rom. We know everything. You loved him very much, no?"

Janet tried to blink back the tears that pricked her eyes every time Philip was mentioned. "Yes...well I thought I did…I mean… I still do, it's just…"

Tsura waved a hand. "You do not need to speak of it, if it pains you. But from loss, can come new life, and new love. My daughter was taken from me, and my heart aches for her every day. But in Nicu, I see her. He has helped me heal, and he has taught me how to love again. One day, you will heal too."

At her words, Janet sighed. She wanted to say something, but she kept silent for fear of appearing foolish. Instead, she continued to stroke Nicu's hair, and even started a little game of catch with him.

"He is very handsome, your young man, if rather plainspoken." A twinkle of humor in her eyes, Tsura gestured towards outside, where Luke was in conference with the men. His fear seemed to have gone entirely: he stood nearly as tall as Djordji, the sun glinting off his golden brown hair.

"What? Oh no…sorry… it's not like that between me and Luke. He's not _my _young man."

The gypsy said nothing, simply raising an elegant eyebrow.

"We're outlaws, we work together…and we're friends. But that's all. I'm not in love with him, and he's certainly not in love with me. I don't think I'll be able to fall in love with anyone, ever again."

Tsura merely laughed and shook her head. Wondering if the older woman was mocking her, Janet began to retort, but was interrupted by the entrance of the men.

"How are you feeling?" Luke went over to Janet, concern in his eyes. Janet tried to avoid Tsura's gaze as she answered. "Quite well, have you thought of anything?"

"We'll go into Locksley this afternoon, you and I will have to hide in the caravan someplace in case they search us. Then, Shandor and Djordji will break into the castle and track down the storehouse for the traps while you and I free Robin and the others."

"And tell me, how exactly are we going to do that?" Janet gave an exasperated groan. "I've said before, neither of us know anything about the castle prisons, and the Sheriff would notice if there were…: She was silenced by Shandor's raised eyebrow.

"If there were Roms running about his castle? But we have thought of a solution to that. Djordji and I shall pose as traders in metal, wishing to see and offering to improve upon the traps."

"And what about us? How will we free our friends?"

Djordji laughed. "Your part. You shall do it." Luke shrugged.

"We can think of something! Suppose if we got guards' uniforms…"

"I think they'd notice if one of the guards limped and was shorter than average! Besides, they'll be expecting that. Robin's used that trick countless times."

Luke had no words. She was right.

"Wait a minute." Janet's eyes widened as an idea came. "That posset…have you got a bottle of it? And Tsura, do you have a chest of clothes of some sort?"

Tsura nodded, bemused, while the brothers exchanged looks.

"Good. Now…we just need to go back to camp…unless…you don't happen to have a sleeping draught on that shelf, do you?" She pointed to the array of glass bottles.

"Janet, what on earth are you playing at?" Luke, though accustomed to her mood swings now, still found himself completely bewildered by her excitement.

She grinned, a new hope and life in her face. "You'll see."

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"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Why can't _you_ be the woman? You're a girl, after all!"

" Well…" She tightened a sash around Luke's waist. "First, they've seen me all before in women's clothes, they'll recognize me right away. Second, I've been here longer than you have, they know my face well by now. And third, if they did hypothetically catch me, I wouldn't be able to run away, would I?" She gave her foot a little wag as she adjusted a brown skirt, the plainest she could find in Tsura's chest. Taking her hands away, she narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized the job she had just done. "You know, it's a pity we haven't got a corset, that would really give you the right shape…"

Luke surveyed his feminine garb, and for once was glad his brother wasn't there to witness this ultimate humiliation. If might have been a bit better if Janet was not clearly biting back giggles. "You are," he groaned "the strangest girl I have ever met."

"Oh, and how many girls have you known then?" She finally was able to suppress her mirth as she leaned forward to tie a kerchief around his head.

He bit his lip in thought. "Just you really," he said as she secured the knot. "And mother."

She grinned as she straightened his kerchief, covering his hair. "Ravishing. Now, this posset has got a sleeping draught in it. Just pretend you're lost on the way to the Sherriff's rooms or something, and then leave it for the guards. If I know guards, they'll drink anything right up that resembles wine. Then you use this…" she shoved a hairpin into Luke's hand, "to pick the locks off the gang. When you're done, come outside…the guards will be dead to the world…and we'll be waiting for you with the caravan. Djordji and Shandor will have set fire to the storeroom, so we can escape in the confusion. Understand?"

"No, actually, I think you're positively insane."

"Well have you got a better idea than?"

He began to protest, but then stopped. "Er…no. But this plan is _completely_ mad!"

"I know." She gave a rueful smile. "So mad it just might work."

_As always, reviews are welcome!_ :-)


	12. Chapter 12

_First, thank you as always for reviews! Keep 'em coming!_

Gisborne grinned as he surveyed his captives, chained up in the rotting dungeon.

"You have no idea how much I've longed for this Locksley…seeing every one of your bones break and rot will be the greatest pleasure ever known to mankind." Robin snorted.

"But not enough to help you escape from the hell you've created for yourself, with what you've done." Gisborne moved forward, but Vasey stilled him.

"Come, come Gisborne, save that for tomorrow. Let them count down the minutes to their demise themselves." Smirking, he led Gisborne away, while the gang sighed.

"A good day to die." John nodded, trying to instill some courage. "We all die in the name of honor, remember that."

"What about Janet and Luke?" Allan piped up. "I mean…they're still out there!"

"You really think they're going to rescue us? They're just children, and one of them's injured!" Much could not disguise the panic in his voice.

"Janet won't come. Not after what we've told her." Robin sighed and shook his head."

"Robin," John leaned in. "She's just a child, and she's hurt, but she's not like that. If we die, it will not be because of her." Much nodded his agreement.

Robin sighed. John was right, but he still could not escape the guilt he felt. Would it truly been better for her to live with a lie? But it did not matter now. He closed his eyes, and thought of Marian. She would have wanted him to face this with all his bravery, and so he would. For her sake.

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"They're still in there…that's good, isn't it?" Luke crouched below the caravan window, trying to avoid the gaze of the posse of guards that circled them in the courtyard. So far, their plan was working: Shandor and Djordji, draped in exotic-looking robes over their gypsy clothes, had been able to convince the guards that they were Saracen metal craftsmen who had come to inspect the traps. Fearful of their dark looks and mysterious air, the guards had not questioned them, but still insisted on surrounding the caravan, whose presence had provoked a crowd of whispers and stares.

"Well, they haven't raided us yet, so I assume so." Janet shook the bottle that held the posset and the sleeping draught. "That's the entrance to the dungeon over there…"

"I've been here before too, in case you've forgotten." His voice came out harsher than he had intended it to be. Janet opened her mouth for a minute, but then she looked down and saw the panic in the blue depths of his eyes. Biting back her retort, she tried to keep her tone encouraging.

"You can slip out through the trapdoor there…" she gestured to a small flap on the floor of the caravan and sneak in. Everyone's too busy staring at us, they won't notice you."

Luke nodded and stared at the ground, doing his best not to show his terror. Even in his disguise, he was sure he would be noticed and caught the moment he stepped outside. "What about you? Will you be alright?"

"Don't worry about me. Nicu will look after me, won't you lad?" She grinned down at the little boy, who was pressed up against her, and ruffled his hair. "Now, just keep your eyes on the ground and stay in the shadows. And no matter what, whoever's guarding the prison _has to drink this_." She thrust the bottle into his hands. "You have the hairpins? And remember how to unpick the lock?" Luke stared at the bottle, trying not to shake. Swallowing his fear, he looked up into Janet's expectant face and nodded.

"Good. Now, only run out when you see the smoke. Shandor and Djordji will meet you and the gang here, and then we can escape." Suddenly, out of nowhere, she gave him a little kiss on the forehead. "Best go now. Good luck, Luke. I have faith in you." She gave him a nudge, and he slipped out through the door.

He shivered as he crept below the cavern, only to discover that, to his horror, his face was burning. Good god, this was the absolute _worst_ time to be blushing! Or thinking about girls. Furiously adjusting his shawl and affecting a slouch, he hustled out into the open, staring at his feet. He felt certain that he would be caught any moment, so he kept his movements steady but quick, and made sure to keep hold of the bottle and the hairpin. To his shock, he found himself right at the dungeon entrance before he knew it. Scarcely believing his luck, he looked up back towards the caravan and saw the dark swarm of soldiers, who kept their distance, but still formed a tight circle around it. The sight sent chills through him, and he was strongly tempted to go back and make sure Janet, Tsura, and Nicu were still alright. But then he remembered Robin and the gang, and the gyspy brothers, and his duty to them. Gritting his teeth, he shuffled his way through the doors.

The dungeons were, if possible, even darker and danker than he remembered. For nearly two years now, he had tried to forget the living hell of this place, the torture and degradation that he saw, but it always came back and haunted his worst nightmares. _Think of the gang_, he told himself, and holding his breath at the putrid stench of death and blood, he ambled forward.

Almost immediately, he glanced up and saw, through the dim haze, the gang behind bars, chained up, all hope or life erased from their faces. In front of them, the jailer and a couple of guards were snickering about something. Luke desperately tried to think of a way to give them the wine…and could not mask the sneeze that suddenly came.

"Oi! Who's there?" Weapons brandished, the guards and jailer looked around suspiciously.

"Oh dear, I seem to be lost!" Luke, pitching his voice to a high falsetto, did his best to mask his trembling. "And my lord will be wanting his wine!"

"Hey there! It's a woman! And she's got wine!!!"

Luke gave a squawk and then ran off into the shadows, making sure to leave the bottle behind. Crouching in the shadows, he did not move a muscle, hardly daring to breathe in case he was caught. After a few minutes, the sound of snores began to fill the dungeons..._It worked!_ He felt like laughing in exaltation but there was no time to lose. Right away, he emerged, and gingerly stepping over the unconscious bodies, he went at the cell door with his hairpin, trying to remember the exact way Janet had showed him how to do it.

"Blast!" he muttered as he fumbled, finally looking up at the gang, who were staring at him in awe.

"Master…that's not…that's…is it?" Much was gasping.

"I'm not being funny but…I think it is!" Allan let out a huge guffaw, and was soon joined in by the rest of the gang in peels of laughter. Luke firmly kept his concentration on the lock, finally managing to wrest it open.

"I must say Luke, that is a lovely dress. Shows off your legs nicely." Robin was barely able to speak for mirth as Luke unpicked his handcuffs.

"Here, stop laughing like a fool and help me with the others." Luke shoved a hairpin into Robin's hand and began to unpick Allan's handcuffs, who was still snickering.

"Well aren't you the prettiest rescuer I've ever had!"

"Oh shut up, you. It was Janet's idea."

"Really?" Allan's brow suddenly furrowed. "Where is she then?"

"Out in the courtyard. With the gypsies."

"_Gypsies_? You mean you left her alone with gypsies? They could cut her tongue out!"

Luke was about to retort, but was interrupted by the shouts of "Fire! Fire!" and the drifts of smoke which began to enter the dungeon.

"Come on, that's the signal! We have no time to lose….follow me!" Luke dashed out towards the entrance. Robin barely had finished uncuffing John when the shouts of new guards drew closer, but the smoke had grown thick enough to camouflage them.

"Here…towards the caravan!" Lifting up his skirt, Luke made a run for it. The posse of guards surrounding the caravan had left to stop the fire, and Shandor and Djordji, still clad in their finery, were running at full speed.

"Oi! Over here!" Luke shouted. The brothers ran over towards the gang, grins spreading across their faces.

"Well, so your plan worked, Luke Scarlett." Shandor panted even as smiled. He extended his hand to Robin. "Your friend here says great things about you. It is an honor to help." Djordji raced towards the front of the caravan to the driver's seat and began to prepare the ponies.

Janet peeked out of the door. "Everyone alright? Come on then, we've got no time to lose." Luke, Shandor, and Robin leaped up, but Allan, Much and John stood their ground.

"Well _come on then_! What are you waiting for?" Robin gave an exasperated yell.

"Well Master…they're…they're gypsies." Much gave a little shiver as Allan nodded fervently. John harrumphed as he crossed his arms.

"_Gypsies_… we do not like."

Shandor and Luke merely rolled their eyes, but Robin groaned. "Well would you rather stay here and die? Get on!" A group of guards, led by Gisborne, sped through the opening, and began charging towards them. Having no choice, Much, Allan, and John leaped up, and Djordji flicked the reins, pushing the ponies into breakneck speed, with the guards following them in hot pursuit.

Inside the caravan, everyone held on for dear life as they were thrown about, the possessions and furniture sliding back and forth. Suddenly, they were thrown backward as the caravan came to a grinding halt. Looking out the window, Luke and Robin groaned as they saw an all-too-familiar sight, and all exchanged hopeless looks as Gisborne and the guards, now joined by the Sherriff, caught up.

"No escape now, Locksley!" Gisborne shouted in triumph while the Sherriff cackled.

One guard pulled Djordji off the driver's seat and held him fast, sword at his throat, and dragging him perilously close to the man-trap while another lit a torch and prepared to light the caravan on fire.

"Done for." Robin muttered as the guard approached…only to receive a sharp whack on the head from Tsura's cane as she leaned out the window. Grinning as the gang gaped at her, she laughed and winked at her son-in-law, who immediately returned it.

"Luke Scarlett and Robin Hood, you shall come with me. The big one, guard the doorway. The little one and…" he narrowed his eyes at Allan. "You with the big nose, you take the front. Ladies…" he bowed to Tsura and Janet. "I leave you to your own devices." His words provoked several statements of outrage.

"I _have not_ got a big…"

"Who are you calling little?

"If you think I'm going to obey a _gypsy_…"

"DO AS HE SAYS! THAT is an order!" Robin, drawing his sword, nodded at Shandor, and leaped out the caravan into battle with him and Luke.

Djordji was able to wrest himself from the guard's grasp and gave him a sharp kick in the stomach. Joining his brother, Robin, and Luke, he drew his dagger and threw himself into the fighting. As a guard tried to attack John from behind, he ran over and stabbed him quickly. John eyed his rescuer suspiciously, but gave a little nod of gratitude as Djordji winked and joined him in defending the entrance. Janet and Tsura leaned out from opposite windows of the carvan, Janet swiping at guards with a sword while Tsura whacked them sharply with her cane. Even Nicu joined in the fight, hurling bottles as the guards at Janet's side.

"Bloody gypsies," the Sherriff muttered, and whispered some instructions to Gisborne, who rode over to Janet's caravan window, gave her a sharp push, and snatched Nicu up, who gave a frightened shriek. Clamping his hand over the little boy's mouth, he rode over to the man trap and gave a victorious yell.

"Hood! You and your men shall surrender or the boy dies!" The men exchanged looks of horror while the Sherriff laughed.

"Oh how I _have_ missed this sort of thing."

Janet, dragging herself on her newly sore ankle, watched in terror from the caravan window. Tsura knelt down beside her, a fierce look on her face.

"Give me your knife. _Now_."

To weak and terrified for her young friend to argue, she thrust it into Tsura's hands, who promptly leaned back, and from the little window, aimed perfectly and threw it into Gisborne's shoulder, causing him to howl in pain and drop Nicu. Janet gaped.

"But how…" she was silenced by Tsura's wink.

Robin at once ran forward to catch the boy and shoved him into his father's arms, while he wrestled Gisborne to the ground. Although he was injured, Gisborne still had his strength, and he dragged Robin and dangled him over the edge of the pit, ready to drop him into the trap's waiting clutches.

"Excellent, Gisborne." The Sherriff applauded. "Thought you were down there for a moment, but you seem to be back in form. And to think I was considering a replacement for you….guards! Seize them!!!"

As the guards closed in on them, Luke suddenly noticed Nicu's red ball, which had fallen from the window and rolled over near his feet. Inspired, he picked it up, and quick as a flash, he hurled it as hard as he could…hitting the Sherriff right between the eyes.

"AAAAHH!!! GISBORNE!!!" Shrieking in pain, Vasey fell right off his horse and hit his head on a nearby rock. Distracted by the call, Gisborne momentarily slackened his grip on Robin, and Robin, suddenly finding a new strength, hurled him over his shoulder and straight into the trap.

Gisborne's screams of pain reverberated throughout the entire forest, and Robin leaned over to survey his work. His enemy lay down there in a pool of blood, his right leg nearly severed from him from below the knee. Nodding grimly, Robin stood up and ran back to the gang. With half the guards flocking to Gisborne and the other half to the Sherriff, he and the gang raced back to the caravan, fleeing into the forest.

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"My friend, without you and your family, we would have been done for. How can we ever thank you?"

Shandor sipped from his goblet and laughed. "There is no need, Robin Hood…you already have." He gestured to Much, who was cleaning and bandaging Nicu's ankle properly, while making funny faces and sending the boy into peels of giggles. Tsura had brewed a posset for John, who was considerably less stiff; engaging him in conversation and admiring his wooden staff. Djordji entertained Janet by showing off with some tricks on one of the ponies, giving him commands that made him dance and perform tasks, while Janet laughed and clapped in delight. The pony, at one of his master's commands, even grabbed at a cluster of wildfowers with his teeth, and trotted over to Janet, offering them to her. As she gasped in amazement, Allan and Luke, who were sitting rather rigidly on opposite sides of each other, remained stony-faced. Robin, surveying the scene, felt his heart warm over and turned back to Shandor. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with us? We could use…"

But the man waved his head no, a wise smile on his face. "The Rom never stay in one place. But trust me, we never forget a friend, and we shall spread word of your honor and bravery. Whenever you have need of help, the Rom will be there to provide it."

Robin began to argue, but realized he had to be content. Djordji, giving an apple to his pony, let him rest and instead took up a flute, beginning a lively tune. Shandor smiled and then produced a sort of string instrument, and began to sing. While the rest of the gang watched, Robin moved towards Janet.

"Janet, I want…" but she held up a hand.

"Peace, Robin. I understand you wished to tell me the truth about Philip, and I am glad to know that you respect me enough not to let me live believing a falsehood. But all I ask is that you allow me to love and cherish Philip as I remember him, for that is how he will always be to me. I'll stay with you and the gang, and we need never speak of it again."

Robin nodded. "Very well, in gratitude for the lives of my men, I shall respect your memories and love for Philip. For without you and Luke and your friends, they would have been dead men." Smiling, they shook hands, and leaned back to listen to the song.

The music giving him new hope and spirit, Robin, inspired, suddenly walked over to Tsura and offered her his arm. Giving her warm, throaty laugh, she joined him in the vigorous dance. Much took Nicu on his knee and bounced him, and John, producing a new ball, began to play catch with the little boy.

Luke smiled at the sight of Robin and Tsura's dance, and glanced over at Janet, who was beaming, and looking happier than he had ever seen her. He scooted over closer to her.

"So, admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That I was right about trusting them."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't play high and mighty with me, Luke Scarlett. Remember, I've seen you in a skirt."

He laughed. "Fair enough. But I wanted to ask you…earlier, I heard you telling that story to Nicu." She raised an eyebrow.

"What of it?"

"Well…I mean…d'you, I mean would you mind…"

"You mean you've never heard the stories of King Arthur? The Knights of the Round Table? Lancelot and Guinevere? The Holy Grail? Morgan le Fay? " She stared at him as if he had told her he didn't know who Jesus Christ was.

Embarrassed, Luke shook his head. Bess Scarlett had been a highly religious woman, and deeply suspicious of anything to do with dark magic or legends, which ran strongly throughout the old tales of King Arthur. The only stories her sons had heard as children were those from the Bible or the lives of the saints.

"Oh, very well then. I'll begin again." She started the story as her old nurse had always done, so many years ago. "Once, a long time ago, at the Feast of Pentecost, King Arthur and all his knights were having a grand festival. At the stroke of midnight, the herald announced a young man who wished to make a request. The man approached, poorly dressed and all dirty and bedraggled, with a great beard and stinking up the hall. The only thing clean about his person was his large, beautiful white hands, and he had with him a dwarf as his companion. 'Your Majesty,' the man said, 'on this feast day I hear it is custom of you to grant a wish to any who may demand it…'"

Neither of them noticed Allan, who was also leaning forward from his spot, and listening as well.

_Reviews, of course, are welcome! And major update coming soon!_


	13. Chapter 13

_ TThanks for the reviews everyone! You all are wonderful! Disclaimer here: The story that Luke tells Janet is acutally from Le Morte d'Arthur, but hey, a little creative license never hurt anyone :-)_

The sky was perfectly cloudless, and the smell of new blossoms and leaves pervaded the camp. Spring was in full force, and the feeling of rebirth filled the air. Robin was out in Locksley for an errand, while John, Much, and Allan tended to the camp. Below, in the stream, Luke and Janet, whose ankle had fully healed, were tickling for trout. She finished telling him the tragedy of Tristram and Iseult.

"When Iseult finally came and found Tristam dead and cold, she was so overcome with grief that her heart broke and she died herself," She said as she stroked a newly caught fish on its underbelly, and then threw it into her sack. "On hearing of their deaths, King Mark ordered that the two lovers be buried next to each other. A hazel tree grew out of Tristran's grave, and a honeysuckle grew out of Iseult's, and they intertwined as one, never to be parted again."

Luke furrowed his brow as he caught a trout, thinking about the tale's rather grim conclusion. Noting his puzzled frown, Janet raised an eyebrow. "You didn't like it, did you?"

"Well…she just _died_ like that? Of _what_?"

"I told you. A broken heart. She couldn't live without him. It's _romantic_."

"But it doesn't make sense. You can't just decide to die on the spot because the person you love is gone." She began to retort, but he continued. "Think about it…if the person you loved truly loved you back, they'd want you to go on living and be happy, wouldn't they?"

"But it was the only way they could be together!"

"No it wasn't! They should have gone and told Mark the truth when they got off the boat…and that's another thing, they fell in love because of a _potion_? It's not really even true love in the first place!"

"So speaks the grand lover here," Janet snorted sarcastically. "You're missing the point entirely…it's about the pain of forbidden love."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Well whatever it's about, they both sound like a great pair of fools."

He expected her to angrily defend the tale, but to his surprise she simply chuckled. "Philip and Freddie always hated this story too. They only wanted to hear the parts with the dragon and the jousts."  
Grinning, he succeeded in catching another trout. "Tell me another."

"Why don't you tell me one?" She gave him a quizzical look. "Don't tell me that _all_ you know is that religious drabble."

"Well…" he bit his lip as a memory came. "There was this one that this bloke told me in Scarborough…but's it's not that good…"

"I'll be the judge of that. Let's hear it." She sat down on the bank after throwing her latest catch back, an expectant look on her face."

"Alright, there was this knight from Cornwall. And he loved this lady very much. Gave her everything he owned: all the gold she could want, and the finest rooms in his castle. But one day she ran off with his bailiff."

"Well, poor Sir Knight from Cornwall," Janet said in mock sorrow.

"That's not all though…they stole the knight's best horses and dogs too, and most of his treasury."

At this addition she raised an eyebrow. "Sounds a bit like Helen and Paris, doesn't it?"

"Just let me finish, alright? So, the knight tracks them down, and challenges the bailiff to a joust and kills him. The lady began to simper and marvel at the knight's bravery, but he completely ignored her. He just took his horses and dogs and money and left."

Her reaction was as unlike the ribald laughter of the audience of the Scarborough inn where he had first heard this story as anything. Instead, she looked quite stricken.

"That's _horrible_."  
"What? You mean you actually approve of adulter…"

"No no, of course not! But still, think of it from _her_ perspective! Imagine, just standing there, all alone in the middle of nowhere, with only the clothes on your back and your lover's corpse. No food, no money, no nothing."

Luke paused. He had always thought before that the lady had gotten what she deserved, but Janet's words cast her in a new light. Perhaps the knight had been a bit harsh…it wasn't her fault if she truly didn't return his love. Still, he was determined not to admit defeat, so he shrugged off her words. "Well, she should have thought about that before running off."

Janet groaned. "You, Luke Scarlett, are _hopeless_."

"Well…at least my _aim_ isn't hopeless," he grinned, unable to resist the jibe at her poor archery skills.

_Whack_. He was entirely unprepared for the cold, disgusting slap in the face as Janet hurled a fish at him. Dripping wet, he glared back up at her grinning face, and prepared to throw his latest catch at her…only to be hit in the face by another one. Laughing uproariously, she ducked at his aim and ran to the opposite side.

"You come back here! I'm not letting you win this one!" he yelped as he pursued her. Roaring like giddy children, the pair relentlessly chased on another around the stream, splashing and throwing fish until both were soaked to the bone.

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"Well, there goes our dinner," Much clucked as he surveyed Janet and Luke laughing and splashing about below.

Allan too was watching the scene, and looking very grumpy. "They seem to be getting along awfully well," he muttered, returning to sharpening his sword.

"Why shouldn't they?" John shook something out of his boot. "They're both young, and they've both lost ones they've loved. And they saved our lives, don't forget that. It's only natural they should be friends."

"Well they don't have to be so friendly," Allan grunted as Janet gave a particularly loud shriek of mirth. Much, who had been watching his friend with his eyes narrowed, suddenly gave an uncharacteristically sly grin.

"I don't believe it."

"What? Don't believe what?"

"You're jealous." Much looked rather pleased with himself. John rolled his eyes while Allan exclaimed in outrage.

"No I'm not! Not being funny, she's beautiful and all that, but I don't exactly fancy a girl who tries to kill me at the first opportunity…"

"Who's trying to kill you?" Dripping wet and with no fish to speak of, Janet and Luke had returned.

"No fish today?" Much looked rather less than happy, but John could not resist giving a small chuckle at their appearance.

Janet started, but Luke cut in. "They all died of _broken hearts_," he said in all seriousness, his expression perfect for a funeral.

Still giggling, but looking rather guilty, she remarked: "we couldn't find any."

"Oh really?" The skeptical remark heralded Robin's return. All signs of mirth vanished from the pair's faces as they stared at their feet like naughty children. Their leader looked at them and shook his head like a scornful parent.

"So…did you hear anything about this new lieutenant?" John attempted to change the subject. Since being injured by the man-trap, Gisborne could only move about on one leg, and thus the Sherriff had found a second-in-command for him, who was due to arrive that day.

Robin shook his head. "Just the usual drivel…that he's the spawn of the devil and a she-wolf, will kill anything or anyone that stands in his way…they even call him the Angel of Death, can you imagine?"

He was laughing, but the gang wore shocked expressions. "Sounds pretty serious for drivel," John said, crossing himself.

"Well then, if they haven't been able to get us food, then perhaps our two pranksters here can go and investigate." Nodding guiltily, Janet and Luke prepared to set out.

"I'll go too," Allan blurted out, suddenly dropping his sword. When the rest of the gang raised eyebrows, he began to sputter. "I mean…you know, just in case something should happen…"

Robin sighed. "All right, if you insist. But be careful. Now go."

As they set off, Much turned to Robin. " You really don't think he'll be all that bad, Master? This new bloke?"

"He's only human. How bad could he be?"

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"That must be him." Luke, crouching with Janet and Allan behind a bush, pointed to the tall figure facing the shaking village crowd. They couldn't see his face, but could see his wavy black hair cascading to his shoulders, and his deep red cloak flowing behind him. He also seemed to be wearing some sort of mask, for around his head was a peculiar sort of band that hooked just above his temple. The people crouched before him, shivering at his presence: even a puppy whimpered at the sight of him.

"Now! Let it be understood!" The man's rich tenor had undertones of grit, which told of a hard life and past. "You are to comply with the laws of the land as ordered by the Sherriff and your Prince John! They tell me that an outlaw known as Robin Hood inhabits these parts. Well mark my words, I have been entrusted by the crown itself to purge our great country of people such as this Robin Hood, who merely pretends to know the best for the people but only seeks his own glory! And if any…any…attempt to aid, or give shelter to…or protect this so called legend…" he suddenly grabbed the puppy, and with a sickening crunch, began to twist its neck. "You shall feel for and suffer the consequences by my hand."

Luke and Allan were openmouthed with shock at the man's violence, but Janet was as white as if she had been knifed. She stared at the commander as if he were a ghost. "It can't be," she whispered.

As the puppy whimpered in its dying moments, the crowd cowered at the sight, but one brave soul shouted out. "The crown you work for is falsely worn! The true king shall return one day!"

At the elderly man's voice, the lieutenant dropped the puppy's corpse, and stalked over to the speaker. "The true king, you say?" he whispered, his voice dangerously soft. "The true king who abandons his country and his people on a fool's errand?" And with that, he sharply struck the man across the face with his metal glove, sending specks of blood flying and the man crumpling to the ground.

Allan immediately raised his bow, but Janet, giving a cry of "No! Stop!" suddenly lunged at him and knocked him to the ground. At the commotion, the lieutenant sharply turned around, letting the outlaws see him. He was tall, with a tanned complexion and clad in black. Luke could see why they called this man "the angel of death:" the left side of his face was incredibly handsome; the perfectly chiseled jaw, cheekbones, and lips could have come from a Greek statue. But a peculiar sort of mask, painted to blend with the color of his skin, obscured almost the entire right half of his face, starting at above his hairline and ending at his temple. He narrowed one brilliant, emerald-green eye at the cluster of bushes, not hearing Janet's gasp of shock, and then turned away, beginning to saddle a huge black horse.

"What were you thinking? I could have killed you!" Allan propped himself up and dusted himself off. "Robin was wrong…he's a monster! He needs to be stopped!"

Luke, however, was watching Janet, whose face was a paralyzed mask of distress, and who was shaking her head repeatedly. "Janet…what's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked, putting a tentative arm around her.

Holding on to him for support, she turned to Allan. Her voice when it came, was a thin thread. "I can't let you kill him. It's Philip."

_reviewsplz!_


	14. Chapter 14

"I have to see him."

"You _can't_," Luke, futilely trying to catch her arm, groaned. "You know you…"

"Please! I just want to _talk_ to him." Breathless, Janet ran out of the camp, the men trying to hold her back.

"How do you know he won't kill you first? You've seen him…he's bloody insane!" Allan gaped at her incredulously.

"Lass, he's dangerous. And he's a murderer." John nodded his agreement "He is not the one you loved anymore…"

"You don't know! You haven't even seen him! Look, he'll know me, he made a promise to me! And even if he has changed and no matter what he did, I will never stop loving…"

"Janet…" Robin put his hands on her shoulders and shook her, as if trying to put some sense into her. "You love the boy he was. _Not_ the man he is. No matter how he was when you were children, the fact remains that he is a traitor and a murderer…"

"This is _not_ something I can choose, Robin!" Tears streaming, Janet threw off his grasp. "And if you think you can stop me, then you, sir, don't know _anything_ about love! And you never will!"

Much, Allan, and John exchanged shocked expressions as Robin turned white. He gritted his teeth, and his hand fisted into a tight ball. Luke, who had been watching the rest of the men with a puzzled expression, suddenly moved forward in case he did indeed strike her. But Robin suddenly stepped back, looking at Janet with something almost like disgust.

"Go then," he snarled. "On your own head be it."

Janet's brow furrowed, even as she wept. "Robin, I…"

"GO!"

Without another word, she sped off towards Nottingham. Luke dashed after her, but the rest of the men crowded around their leader.

"Are you mad?" Allan gasped. "Look, I'm not being funny, I know what she said was wrong, but that doesn't mean you can…"

"Then her so-called beloved can protect her. If he truly loves her he will!"

"But he's a madman…I mean, you must have…"

But Robin had turned to Much, who had been silently hovering at the back, looking at the ground and biting his lip.

"Much?" His teeth were bared.

"M-m-master?" In all their time together in prison and in battle, Allan and John had never seen Much so frightened.

"You have something to say, don't you? About our old friend de Courcey." Robin's voice was dangerously soft.

"Well…we…we thought he was dead. He's obviously not." He tried to keep his voice steady, but he could not disguise the waver of fear that crept in.

"The morning after he burned down the village, I sent you and some men into the village to find the body, and you came back and told me he was all burned, and dead."

"I couldn't bear to see it, alright!" Much was nearly in tears. "He was such a good, courageous, honorable boy, and what happened to him…well, it just wasn't right! I waited on the outskirts and sent some friends of his in to find him. They came back and told me he was burned, and that they buried the body... sorry for lying to you, I know I shouldn't have…but you can't blame me for not knowing he lived!"

His master sighed and shook his head. It made sense. Philip's bravery, honesty, and high spirits had won him a devoted number of friends and followers in the regiment. Even after his near-fatal head wound, his inner circle wouldn't hear a word against him, and like Janet, couldn't accept that he had changed. And they probably could not bring themselves to bury him if he had been dead, or appeared to be so.

"Well that's all and good, but what about…"

"She's a brave girl, she can take care of herself." John patted Allan's back. "Luke will talk to her. And perhaps it's good for her…she needs to see what he's really become face-to-face."

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"Janet! Stop! You have to stop!" Luke was nearly out of breath, but he wasn't about to let her run towards that devil, to certain death.

"Just leave me alone, Luke! I have to do this!!"

"But…"

"What?" She whipped around, fury in her eyes. "You think you can order me around because I'm a woman?"

"No, I am trying to help you because I am your _friend _and I _care_ about you!" The vehemence in his shout surprised both of them as they gazed at each other for a few silent moments. Finally, she approached him, her face beseeching him.

"I have to see him for myself. To know the truth…to see whether he really has changed."

"But you were there, you saw…"

"Please! _Try_ to understand. If I can just see him again…speak to him…then I'll know the truth."

He opened his mouth to try and dissuade her, but looked into her large, pleading eyes. Gone was the fierce, even haughty young woman he was used to: there was still that indefinable air of pride in her bearing, but her face was honest and utterly guileless, her heart in her eyes. Luke sighed as he realized how much this meant to her.

"All right, maybe you're right. But be…"

But his sentence was broken off as she threw her arms around him and clutched in a tight hug, whispering "_thank you_." Before he could comprehend what had happened, she turned around and sped off towards the village.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me!" she shouted over her shoulder, while he firmly resisted the urge to run after her.

"Be careful!" He helplessly shouted after her retreating form.

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Janet pulled her hood further down over her face as a group of guards stalked by. Trembling as she stood outside the castle walls, she looked around, but there was no sign of Philip.

She shivered as one guard squinted his eyes at her, drawing her cloak closer despite the warm weather. Sighing with relief as he shrugged and walked away, she thought of Robin's shocked and angry face, and could not stop a trace of guilt from creeping in. He had been in love with someone once, she could deduce that much, and her death had something to do with Gisborne. But whenever she or Luke had tried to pry the truth out of Allan, Much, or John, they had all changed the subject or pretended not to hear. The pair had often speculated on what had happened, but neither was able to draw any conclusions.

Determined to find Philip, she spotted a kitchen maid with a basket making her way through the stalls. An idea popping up, she drew out a coin and approached the girl.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said, holding out the coin and making sure to keep her face in the shadows. The girl's beady eyes widened with greed as she reached out for the money, but Janet drew her hand back.

"The new lieutenant, which rooms are his?" Janet felt a sting of fear, mixed with slight irritation, as the girl blushed and giggled.

"Oh, right this way then." The girl took her around the castle to the other side, and gestured up towards a small, narrow window. "Right just there." She eagerly began to snatch at the coin, but Janet still kept a tight hold.

"You will not breathe a word of this to anyone, or you shall pay with her life." Fear flashed over the girl's doughy face as she nodded empathetically. Janet dropped the coin into her hand and the maid dashed off.

Keeping her vigil outside the window for hours, night finally, mercifully fell. Unwinding a long rope she had nicked from a cart earlier, she tiptoed towards the castle, making sure not to wake the snoring, drunken guard nearby. As quickly as could, Janet made a hasty noose with the end of the rope, and swung it up so that it caught on one of the spikes on the still. Holding her breath and swallowing the last trace of her fear, she braced herself for the climb up

_Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! And keep it up!_


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